People, not places

Yesterday was a beautiful hot day. I love summer.

Michael and I cleaned the house before the onslaught of medical appointments - and before I was going to feel too crappy to scrub toilets (pun intended). The other chore I checked off my to-do list involved laundering the sheets. I love the feeling of sliding between crisp, clean sheets. The last big chore yet to accomplish this week is stocking the house with food. Easy!

Just before noon, we got a phone call from Diane who said, "Where are you? It's beautiful and sunny. You should be at the spa." I laughed because, ironically, once we cleaned up after our Molly Maid extravaganza, we planned to head to Pete's deli for a sandwich. Pete owns DP Euro Deli in Forest and makes thick, awesome, grilled sandwiches. The entire family hopped in the van, eagerly anticipating a deli sandwich for lunch.

Once Pete and Diane closed the deli, they met us at their place (the spa). We had to pick up our fixed (finally!) motorcycle, and we had a brief visit before they headed out for a Saturday evening excursion. Even sitting on their front porch for an hour, filled me with peace. It's a great retreat - an escape from the city, the every day and the appointments, pills and needles that are once again part of my life.

Yet, in the five minutes I had alone in the Adirondak chair on the porch, I realized it's not the place that's special, but the people with whom I share it. Then I contemplated whether I'd want my ashes spread over Port Franks (yes, sometimes I go to that place) and came to the conclusion that while I love the nature, water and quiet of Port Franks, if Diane, Pete and Michael weren't there sharing the place with me, it wouldn't hold the same magic. Part of me thinks if I were alone in that beautiful locale, I'd feel lonely (let's not go to death and whether or not one feels lonliness, etc.).

To me, the people make the experience special. I loved going skydiving a few years ago, but the friends with whom I did it made it extraordinary. I've trekked across Canada, the northern U.S. states and to Florida many times, but the memories hold special significance because I've shared the adventure with Michael (and sometimes, my kids). I hold memories of tropical vacations close to my heart because of the adventures I shared with others.

I went to Europe with some friends that I didn't know very well at the end of my first year university. I went with these casual friends because I had never been overseas. Sure, I have memories from the jaunts to England, Belgium and France, but not great ones. Not ones full of laughter and shared comraderie. It would be special to go to the exact same places with friends near and dear to my heart. I guaranteed the memories would be ones worth recalling around a glowing fire with a glass of wine.

Which brings me to the one lonely entry I currently have on my bucket list. I want to go whitewater rafting next spring, after all these treatments and nonesense is over. I'm sure I'd love the exhileration and feeling of accomplishment. But I want to share the experience with others to make it truly memorable. So I'm throwing it out there - who wants to go whitewater rafting with me next spring?

I plan to keep making memories with those who mean the world to me. It's the best way to live my life to the fullest.

Tina