Glass Half Empty

We went to see my mom in Maryland. Free trip if free doesn't count in emotional air miles. I wouldn't recommend the red eye flight from Los Angeles traveling with two of your own children plus two under ten year old Russian cousins after you've taught an incredibly loud 3rd grade class of 18 children for the last 14 days straight. But you know? Bustle up your stamina, we did great.

So we got into Maryland with no sleep and headed directly to the Amish market at 6 am to get some hot pretzels. Oh and before this I was standing outside in 45 degree weather (translate that to zero degrees after you've lived in LA) to get my rental car, because only the cheapest rental car place makes you stand outside freezing behind a honeymoon couple and an old Pakistani family taking FOREVER after you haven't had any sleep and why are there all these trees around here, for no reason?

We see an Amish midget, 2nd year in a row, this is maybe better than the pretzels and then trying to figure out how to take a secret photograph of the midget running the cash register (isn't that God illegal?) standing on a box with the full on bonnet like religion actually gets to her, at 3 feet tall, it's not over her head. God can reach all sizes. And she is definitely a stranger to tweezers.

Driving over the bridge into the underworld of Maryland, the Chesapeake Bay, set your brains back 300 years. If only cars turned into carriages here. I felt my intellect sway and then buckle, and I too fell into talking slowly and finding intelligent thought seemed like walking through a haunted house filled with cobwebs. My hands were constantly reaching through the webs, and finding only dark and boxes of doll heads.

You know though, this made fishing easier. And it's way easier to get into a kayak when you aren't burdened with thought. You actually just get in, center yourself, try not to fall out, you're almost face level with the water, and all you have is a paddle and a life vest at your feet.

Then it's just smooth water.

That's what I had the most of.

There is something to be said for smooth abundant water.

Empty out your mind, fill it with water, fill it with walks through trees where you actually stop to pick up a fuzzy caterpillar. We stopped and looked at an inchworm, tinier than a real worm, inching across the road. He seemed even too small to pick up, a tiny Cup o Noodle. He was going from woods across barely used pavement to other woods. He was on maybe the best journey of his life. We got to visit him, without any fanfare.

Of course I saw my mom, the point of the trip, and my other cousins who are almost 80 and hauling kayaks in and out of the water like they're eating pancakes. There's a no-nonsense and also complete nonsense about life with deer in your backyard by the immense water. The water that changes color as the day goes, it ripples, it flattens, it fluffs, it sparkles, it consumes, it waits. It's filled with life, geese, fish, crabs, our toes. It echoes.

We did nothing there.

We went to see the wild ponies living on an island on the jagged edge of the Atlantic. There were French fries and wild wind and turbulent ocean. Calm ponies, satisfied with living by the tumultuous grassy Assateague. Grass growing through sand.

We forgot to worry about stuff because everywhere out the window was empty, rolling green and cornfields chopped down, waiting for winter. Space and nothing in it.

We did nothing and we came back full.