I’ve wanted to visit the Poconos for a long time, and the end of winter (/spring break at J’s college) seemed like as good a time as any. The place we chose was quiet, removed and picturesque. It was nondescript from the outside, but featured large picture windows overlooking a tree-lined stream that led to a marshy pond. There were other houses nearby, but with the woodland surrounded us it felt secluded.
We came without many goals or plans, focused mostly on disconnecting and relaxing, cooking and painting and reading with a bit of nature thrown in. He drove most of the way there, and it was the first time I’d seen him drive on the highway. We started listening to Pride & Prejudice on audiobook, an enjoyable change to our usual pattern of getting distracted from music by the temptation of conversation. It had been 70 degrees when we’d left home, but it dropped steadily as we went deeper into the woods and we awoke the next day to a bright, cold morning. We wanted to make the most of our time here, and while J was restless sitting down to paint seemed to settle him. [I can’t say enough how nice it’s been to connect on the meditative magic of making art - and I don’t know why this was something I haven’t prioritized and never really thought I’d find in a partner].
When we tired of painting we cooked, and when we were full we emerged to visit a small nearby park that was filled with Charlie Brown Christmas trees, a waterlogged geocache wedged into a rockface, and an expansive frozen pond. J broke a slab free and skipped it across the surface, coaxing a tinkling chorus of music as the ice broke apart into tiny fragments that scattered across the surface. We tried to repeat the magic and record the sound, but nothing came close to the original spark. We should have predicted this, considering all of our talk of fleeting moments. But acknowledging the ephemeral doesn’t keep me from wanting to clutch it tightly and tuck it away for safekeeping… and maybe being human is by definition this struggle?
We made our way back to the house by way of a nearby grocery store, stocking up on simple supplies the house hadn’t gifted us (herbs, olive oil, jiffypop). There was snow on the forecast, and our plans and my PTO and the airbnb availability aligned to provide us with a bonus day of getaway. The next morning was slower, and I gathered wood and built another fire before J emerged. After breakfast the snow started in earnest, and we settled back down to paint again.
Later he’d ask me what my favorite part of the day had been. Always indecisive, I replied that it was too difficult to decide and all the little moments added up to something significant. He said his favorite part had been watching me paint.
The snow continued to fall, blanketing our view in a bright powder that sparkled like crystalized sugar. I rediscovered the wonderfully soft muffle snow provides to the world, and the feeling of its crunch underfoot. J hesitantly agreed to my hot tub requests, and we stripped down in the still-falling flakes, bare feet cold on the stone patio. I took a video that I will always treasure, his comical distress as he eased into the water accompanied with the soundtrack of my delighted laughter. I only made him stay with me for a few minutes, giving in to his protests and the beckoning coziness inside.
The rest of our day was filled with food and laughter and blankets and fuzzy socks and tea. Our last morning came too quickly and too early, but even that I appreciated: the quick breakfast and clean-up, followed by digging out the car and entering a world of vibrant sky and shining, sparkling forest.
It was a beautiful drive and a fitting end to a beautiful getaway.