Violet and her uncle are hunched conspiratorially and magisterially over the stove as the kids play hide and seek and giant Connect Four, occasionally peeking into the kitchen for a glance at the delights emanating from Dane’s expert tutelage. My niece and nephew pop onto the couch to share insights and laments and tickles and giggles, my mom and sister-in-law chat on the porch, and Pops is engaged in various tinkers and assistances, as always. A few hours into our weeklong lake reunion and the simple joy of being together pulses through the house as vibrantly as if it was leaving visible contrails.
Separated by an ocean that, while we are not loathe to cross it, presents certain geographic impediments to the familial closeness that is our history and desire, we are particularly enthused to be housed under the same roof. Able to mightily entertain ourselves, we could be happy in a shtetl, but fortunately the majestic peaks rising above the lake are the backdrop to our conversations and gameplay. An adventurous family, outdoor missions await, latent memories waiting patiently to be created, more patient than I am to live them.
When one is young, the proximity to family and friends is something that one assumes is a constant, a miracle viewed as ordinary. My childhood was a cavalcade of beach days and playdates and long romps in the woods and interminable, horribly boring dinners that I would now give my life’s savings and more to recreate. With many of those friends at a geographic or even celestial remove, the times when we congregate take on outsized importance, as at the wedding that immediately preceded my decampment to the lake.
Ex ante, a trip’s planning is filled with seemingly critical choices – bedrooms, showerheads, distance to landmarks, available kitchen utensils. Upon arrival, after the first tour through an accommodation, everything fades in importance compared to the immediacy, the ecstasy of just being in the same room as those who have been long missed. The mundane becomes sublime, transformed by an appreciation that the time together may be fleeting, but will undoubtedly be cherished.
While perhaps it is easier to be overjoyed by someone’s mere presence after a long absence, the basic principles apply even in the more daily context of life. To be at table laughing, to share a quick coffee, to take a nice stroll, to sit next to someone on the couch, it is being with people that is the building block of my happiness, the most basic of pleasures, relatively easy to attain, but a concept seemingly rare to truly grasp.
Surely, I have bouts of misanthropic mania, usually associated with either long lines or poor manners and definitely trenchant when the two are mixed. As I have aged, my tolerance for the more general public has sadly waned, but perhaps that has magnified the bliss I feel at being with my people or at least people that I want to become my people. I minorly lament that I do not have the inclination or energy to see the best in everyone, but that leaves me with more power with which to love on my clan and crew.
We have a full week of recreation and revelry ahead of us, but if we never leave this house and instead just play marathon games of Monopoly Deal and Charades, it will be a success because I will have extended time with the people I love the most. Certainly, the pantry and fridge are so comically stocked that we may well never need to leave. It is a Voboril vacation, after all.