Elizabeth Wilder's Blog

ELATION to DEFLATION

Two weeks ago we were immersed in a wonderful celebration.  Our son was being married and it was a family affair where all pitched in to make it the best day possible.  His brother and SIL worked many weeks preparing their yard for the ceremony and luau reception.  Jen went far beyond as she toiled at making the yard even, planted flowers, painted and turned the screen house into the Luau Lounge.   Over 3 days we all pitched in with a parade of pick up trucks doing just that - picking up the canopy, tables, chairs, arch etc from the rental agency.  His sister and family arrived from PA and all took a hand in setting up and decorating as the yard turned into a magical scene of crisp linens, tiki torches, festive lights and fresh orchids from Hawaii.  The morning of the ceremony, the air was permeated with the aroma of Hawaiian delicacies in final preparations by the groom himself.  My soon to be 6 year old granddaughter and her 6 year old soon to be cousin were dressed in matching dresses from Hawaii to serve as flower girls and met each guest with an Aloha as they placed leis around their necks.  We were blessed with the best sunny day of the summer after a rainy season in Maine and as the glowing bride wound her way to meet her groom, I was truly elated surrounded by friends and family as we shared this most special moment.  Looking  back I found myself thinking of the hot air balloon ride my husband and I took along the coast of Maine.  It took preparation by all passengers as the basket was lifted from the truck, balloon unrolled and spread carefully.  We all had to work at holding the stabilizing guide ropes as the fire was lit on the burner and the hot air began to lift the balloon as if by magic.  Then at just the right moment we all galloped to climb over the rim (some of us not very gracefully) into the basket as it left the ground.  It was an effort of all working as one to succeed.  At the apex of the flight, the silent glide above the countryside, twisting rivers and tidal marshes became euphoric.  I shall never forget the elation.  After 9 miles we began the descent as the happening wound down while the air cooled.  We bounced our way across a farmer's field and tumbled out into the straw as the balloon deflated into a rumpled lump.  I felt like a tired rumpled lump after the wedding.  I once again went from elation to deflation.  Feelings are finally beginning to flatten out and I'm waiting for the spark to light my fire.  It will happen.   

In Retrospect

Yesterday was one of opposing emotions.  I traveled to Sunapee, NH for a day of fun with 2 friends I met on the first day of high school nearly 56 years ago.   Lately we have been able to meet once a year with our spouses (yes - original ones) who also get along great.  Between us we have 145 years of marriage - yikes!  To get to Sunapee from Maine, my husband and I pass Northwood Lake (also in NH) where I spent my summers as a child and composed some of my sweetest memories.  Just a couple weeks ago something that I thought impossible devastated the nexus of my joy.  An F2 tornado tore through the peace of majestic pines and sun splashed water taking the life of a mother while she held her baby as her summer retreat imploded.   It then screamed across the lake to a cove near the cottage my Dad built as the fruition of a dream after many years of renting.  Here is where I floated aimlessly in inner tubes daydreaming of what would be while believing that things would never change.  The fascinating water bug would skitter across the water while the clang of horseshoes rang out on the shore.  The cove was the special place my Dad and I would hand line for horned pout in the evening when all the water had settled for the day and there was not a ripple to be seen in the moonlight.  The cove was where my children learned to bait a hook (although my daughter never really enjoyed the worms).  This was the furthest they were allowed to go while paddling the canoe between the pond lilies.  And now the cove is filled with fallen trees, cottages are shattered as if a child had knocked down a building of blocks and stumps stand where our beautiful pines had stood.  The cottage survived and no longer belongs to the family but I know in my heart how the present owners must feel.  I felt as though this beast tore away a part of my childhood as it skipped across the road and continued to tear an ugly path into the countryside.  An hour above this destruction, I reached the hugs and comfort of my dear friends they knew how I felt.  We began our catch up time - how the children were doing and when we were going to get our next grandchild fix.  There are now 15 of them.  We ate our picnic lunch by the lake at Sunapee where the waves were lapping against the rocks.  Folks were waving from the boats that cruised slowly by - there is a kinship between strangers on a lake.  There is a special smell to the cool air that flows off a New England lake and the freshness awoke memories in my heart that I thought had been crushed.  The sound of the rhythmic waves created a blanket of peace that covered my heart.  We spent the afternoon walking and enjoying the fabulous items at the annual craft fair at the base of the Sunapee ski lifts (yes the boys too).  I found myself in awe of the beautiful pines with the ski runs meticulously carved down the slopes.  It was the antipathy of the wrenching emotion of seeing the ragged route carved by the demon storm.  It then finally struck me that just as I was making memories at the moment with my friends, the memories made as a child will never leave my heart.  Whenever I see a white puffy cloud against a bright blue sky, I will be washed back to the child floating in the inner tube while trying to imagine just what that cloud looks like.  No beast can ever take that away.