I hopped in my car and headed up to The Cottage in Port Sanilac. It was a Tuesday afternoon and I decided I would make it a tradition of driving up once a week to spend a few hours with my mum. It was also one of the hottest days of the year so a dip in Lake Huron was a big bonus.
I selected a playlist from my iPhone for the ride: a soundtrack from the early days of the Pig and I’s courtship. It brought back a flood of memories and warm and fuzzy feelings. If I had a powder-blue VW Beetle convertible, I’d put the top down, throw my hands up in the air and belt out tunes in true Jerry Maguire fashion.
But alas, I’m pimpin around in a Honda minivan so I held my hand out the window instead.
It’s practically the same thing.
When I arrived, I threw on my retro bathing suit and we headed for the lake.
We shimmied down the ladder and into the shin-deep water below.
My legs instantly became numb. I stood there for several minutes, allowing my limbs to acclimate to the frigid lake. I was afraid to wade out further. I mean, numb legs are one thing but once the water reaches the waist and beyond, hello! But I kept telling myself, don’t be a pansy! Remember when you were a kid? You were fearless so come on now, embrace the child within!
I counted to three about 15 times before I went under. I came up fast, gasping for air, the arctic waters taking my breath away. It was refreshing and I applauded my bravery. The temperature soon became comfortable and I was no longer gulping for air every time I sank into the water.
After a jaunt in the kayak, we grabbed a bite to eat and settled back in at the house, enjoying a pleasant breeze that wafted in through the screen door. Lake Huron touted its brilliant blues beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. We sank deeper and deeper into our chairs and deeper and deeper into conversation.
We talked for nearly two hours. I poured my heart out about the snail pace at which I’ve decorated my home, realizing in that moment that I was paralyzed by perfectionism and the possibility of failure. It was an aha moment, a revelation unfolding with every word I spoke. Unveiling my demons, I solemnly swore to cease and desist, to overcome the crippling fears that hid beneath the surface.
My mom shared her love of being a grandmother and how much she enjoys spending time with Littles and Smalls.
I talked about my hopes and dreams of having my own Littles and Smalls one day.
I relished the interaction between us that afternoon in the living room, a soulful connection between mother and daughter as we opened our hearts and allowed ourselves to be vulnerable.
I love you, mom!