I'm enjoying my last full day at the camp I rented. It's a small pond, but beautiful, clean, peaceful.
And so... quiet.
I hear people say how they wish they could get a few moments of peace and quiet, how nice it would be to have a dose of tranquility. And I know that I am fortunate to have it, even if only for a few days.
But the truth is, a few days of it is all I can handle.
Truth is, the quieter it is, the noisier my head becomes.
Too much quiet breeds too much thinking. And I've had a lot to think about this weekend. Then again, I'm always thinking, I suppose. It doesn't matter where I am or what the circumstance.
But the quiet... it just makes the thinking louder.
A good friend of mine became ill recently, and he passed this morning. He was only two years older than me. This morning the quiet became even more hushed.
I met Shawn almost 30 years ago, when I was fresh out of high school, and my mom invited me to join her band. He played drums, and came on shortly after I did. And dear lord, how the women loved him. Even I, steely-minded and cynical, couldn't deny that he was gorgeous, funny, and talented. We became fast friends. Even if I did have to give him a metronome to play along with for the first couple years, lol...
We shared the stage for almost ten years. While other positions/bandmates rotated in and out, Mom, Shawn, and I were steadfast. After some time, Shawn and I became bound by family when he partnered with my cousin Angela. Sadly, their son Elijah died in 2020 when he was only 24 years old. As I said on Facebook, I wish I could say "you're with Elijah now," and fully believe it. I'll try to. Maybe it'll help.
Last night's gig at the mud runs was pretty fun. I haven't felt like I've had a lot of "fun" gigs this summer. We've been so busy that it has felt more and more like a job. Sometimes a job I don't even want to go to.
Especially the gig last month when we were doing our usual engaging the crowd to sing along, and one of the staff members said to us- "I'm here, I am participating. I'm not getting paid to sing, you are."
But anyway, gigs like last night, or the party at molasses pond, or anywhere when all of our friends and followers come, those are the fun gigs. They seemed fewer this year. We've agreed to book less next year (and for people/places who appreciate it), to make it less exhausting and more enjoyable for us both.
Like many other instances, I got a good laugh last night when someone asked me about "my old man" (Chris). Everywhere we go, people assume we are a couple. I'm going to make myself a shirt that says- "I'm single." Or maybe, one with an arrow pointing at Chris that says "I'm NOT with stupid."
Last night I thought, wouldn't it be nice if it were true. No, not with Chris! Jeezus! But just, someone. Wouldn't it be nice if I had an "old man" to talk about...
I'm certain this is the longest I've ever been single. I used to hate being alone. I used to cry almost every day. I still don't like it, and I cry less often. Maybe I'm growing accustomed to it. Maybe I'm trying to accept that, unfortunately, this may be the story of the last half of my life.
On a date recently, I was asked what I want, what I am looking for. Oddly, I had a very hard time explaining it. I tripped over my words for a bit, then finally said- I guess I just want one someone, more often than not.
I don't want to "date." I don't want "friends." I don't want to live a life separate from a partner.
I want more of something meaningful, rather than a little of something insignificant.
One someone, more often than not.
And if I can't have that, I'll just continue to choose nothing.
I picked this camp for a number of reasons. It was cheaper than many, it allows pets, and it is local. Local being the key point, much like the last one I rented this summer.
I hoped that the kids could come out and enjoy the water during what will probably be our last hot weekend of the season. We actually had a day planned. Then, evidently, it fell apart.
And I almost had a dinner visitor Friday night. Actually, I'm pretty sure that was planned, too. But alas, like family day, it didn't come to fruition.
Next time I won't consider location. Next time, maybe I'll go as far away as possible.
Maybe somewhere secluded, so my dogs don't bolt after little old ladies during their morning walk. 
But... the quiet... The quiet that intensified the noise in my head... That I could do without.
And silence, and being alone, only increases the volume.