To the Editor:
Cleaning out some old files on my computer I found this essay I wrote. I haven’t been there for some time, but I could feel my body relax when I read it. It’s been too long.
Ah, the three-hour rides. I am beginning to believe that doing nothing is good here. The quiet here smothers me and makes me feel like a blanket covering me on a crisp spring morning. You know that feeling, you should really get out of bed, but you stare at the ceiling and think about nothing. It is one of the rare times you actually feel yourself living in the moment. The sand on the dirt roads sparkle like the tops of sugar cookies, reflecting back and inviting me to indulge myself. So I continue going. Doing nothing is really good here.
The wind chimes play my favorite songs until I cannot hear them, but I know they are always there. Everything starts to slow down. I don’t care about the five-day weather forecast or the score of yesterday’s game. I begin to envy the children whose only concerns are recess, candy and what is for dinner. I hear the song “Sad Lisa” on a flute, and it was not sad at all! A short ride away there are seven million people riding the same spinning rock that I am navigating, never really knowing where this trip will take us. So excuse me while I find a patch of sun to lie down in and wait to smell the upcoming roses. I just want to tell everyone that “doing nothing” is good on Chappaquiddick.