Becoming Donna

Right. Well, I don’t know what I expected but this wasn’t it. It had just passed noon when I — through the forest and pulled up into what I guess you could call some remanence of a driveway. A vague path curved around a lone tree in the clearing, it was surrounded by long blades of grass that only recently seemed to gain the courage to venture into this bare area. The trail stopped just short of the entrance to the cabin, and as I parked the car, I looked up at the wooden structure. It was a cabin of decent size, though the fence around it, which left just enough room for a very slim person to squeeze through, made it look extremely cramped. How could you feel cramped in the midst of all this? The clearing the house was situated in was as big as a small carpark, and the trees formed a courteous oval shape around me bending slightly inwards as if recognising the new presence in their territory. As I stretched my legs and cleared the leaves and branches from my windshield, I realised that I underestimated how much this journey would stiffen up my limbs. Of course, I could have stopped and had a break but I refused. The aching legs I could handle, but the silence… that was killing me and a break would have made the whole journey longer, I just wanted to get out of the car as quickly as possible. When you’re used to laughter and singing and constant conversation, to then be left with silence for 3 hours, it's intolerable. 

I walked up to the door which had a cozy window on either side and decided to take a look around before bringing my junk in. It was an open-plan cabin. On the left, a few wooden chairs and a cushioned one the kids would call ‘grandma’s chair’, with a log pile and a fireplace between them. On the right a fairly rustic dining table that you could probably find on Pinterest. From both of these ‘rooms’ you can look out to the forest and see the emptiness around, where you cant differentiate the separate trunks, but just recognise a rough curved wall of wood and leaves. In the far left is the kitchen and behind the dining table a large double bed, not separated from the rest of the place. Apart from the small simple bathroom that was sectioned off by the bedroom, there were no walls apart from the 4 external that kept the outside outside. I thought there would be more to see, more to explore, but no. Everything I could see as soon as I walked through the door was all I had for 2 weeks. 

After I brought my suitcase inside a strong tea was desperately required. I went through the whole kitchen, not that it was very large, till every cupboard was swinging open. How could a cabin at this price not have a kettle? There were all sorts of utensils I had never seen before, to be completely honest, the only thing I was confident I could use was the chopping board. Then my eyes grew wide as I realised what was missing here, I felt stupid that I hadn’t noticed it before. I stumbled through the cabin looking across every wall till I confirmed my growing suspicion. There wasn’t a single plug in the whole place. It made so much more sense now, he must have picked a place with no electricity. On purpose? Did he know he had made such a stupid decision or was he trying to be romantic and get away from everything, only the two of us keeping each other warm. As I took my phone out to call him, I then realised the next problem. No signal. I couldn’t even ask him if he knew about all this. If he did he is more bitter than I thought he was. He knew I was coming and he didn’t say a word about it. Well, with no signal I couldn’t go and yell at him, so I stepped outside again to take in my surroundings and calm me down.

My mind kept drawing back to what this trip would have been if he was here. We would have found something to do and we would’ve loved it, even if it was just walking and nature, it would feel so much more thrilling with his presence beside me. As I was wandering aimlessly, weaving in and out between forest and clearing, I found my third dilemma - no neighbours. On the way here on the unkept road, there wasn’t a house to be seen. I thought there may have been some dwellers deeper in the forest, but no. Kind of ironic hmm. I wanted to get here as soon as I could to escape the silence of loneliness and I’m left with this. No electricity, no service, no neighbours. Great. I know, what on Earth did I expect when bringing myself to the middle of nowhere in Scotland on my own, but I guess I at least expected some people or at least a TV. Just some noise, not just me alone with the rasping of the wind. Well, to be truthful, it is my own fault. I didn’t look into what he booked for us. I panicked and needed to get out, needed to leave all those people and all the chaos. I'm full of contradictions, I know. Do I want the silence or am I running away from it? Honestly. I don’t know. ‘Anyway’, I mumbled to myself, ‘I’m here now, so I gotta figure out what I’m going to do here.’ 

As in all cabins or holiday homes, a basket of brochures and information leaflets were found on the table, thankfully one gave a quick run-through on how to work the nonsensical contraptions in the kitchen, old fashioned versions of tools that now needed current rather than manpower. I sat for a few hours sifting through these, trying to find something I could do with my time, but before I could find anything that differed from trail paths or tree identification, I noticed the time. I wasn’t going to drive all the way here just to sit inside all day. I grabbed the map they provided and decided to leave the cabin this time layered in multiple layers and a winter coat. 

The map had a hand-drawn line in orange pen that led to a farm that sold some of its produce. Following a physical map instead of a Sat-Nav is a skill I don’t think any of us are used to anymore, but it was easy enough to understand if you count the clusters of trees and don’t expect road signs or street names. 

———————

While filling my car with the local food, I tried to think through how I was going to make a meal out of this, it would take me all night. And with no fridge or freezer, this was a trip I would have to make a few times. As I was finishing up, something came bounding towards me, twisting between my legs in great distress. 

‘Sorry! I'm sorry’, a lady with a scarf tied around her head was stumbling towards me with her hand out to call her dog back. ‘There are only a handful of people here and Benny knows them all. A new face is all it takes and his excitement is too powerful for his little body to handle.’ 

‘Ah don’t worry, I’m honestly glad to see anyone here’, I bent down and tried to pet him but his body was convulsing and twisting in all directions in happiness, I couldn’t get a hand on him for more than a second. 

‘I’m Anna’, said the lady. She looked about 8-10 years older than me, maybe about fifty-something? And she seemed at ease in this place even with just Benny for company. 

‘Mariam,’ I replied.

‘What brings you out here then?’

‘I wanted a little getaway but I didn’t really think this through…’, I pointed to the pile of instructions in my boot on how to work the Aga stove, something I had never come across before. 

‘Ahh yes it is quite a handful living here, but you will soon get used to it.’

Now that Benny was calmer and distracted by a small branch, we began walking through the forest. Anna wore a green waterproof coat and little wisps of her brown hair strayed from behind her scarf. She seemed worn, but in a good way? Like she has spent her life actually doing things, unlike the rest of us. ‘What do you do here exactly?’ I asked her, ‘How do you stop yourself going crazy? I mean it's beautiful and all, but it must be hard living here, there is too much time to yourself.’

‘Well, where are you from? Actually, it doesn’t matter, wherever you’re from it's obviously nothing like here. But I’d say it's the opposite, here there is no time and everywhere else there is too much.’ 

‘What do you mean?’

‘Here a coffee doesn’t take 2 minutes and you cant just buy everything you need. You have to make it, you have to understand the world around you and work together with it.’ I didn’t like the sound of that, I came here for a holiday and this sounded like a lot of labour. She continued, ‘The fact that everything takes time is what is so great about living here, there is no time to get trapped in your own thoughts.’ She tilted her head towards Benny while she smiled softly. As we walked he scampered forward a few paces, dropped his stick, and sat chewing it. As we came closer, he would run a little further and repeat, never straying too far from Anna.‘The best part? Back home, or in the city, all your energy is going elsewhere. But here all that hard work is all for yourself. It may sound a little selfish, but there is something quite satisfying about that.’

I had been too focused on Benny and his little show, that I didn't register where we were headed. The shadows from the forest that surrounded us were comforting, but Anna led us out where the icy sky could now slowly be seen piece by piece. Till now, we were walking in a vaguely straight line, but we took a sharp right and I quickly realised why. As we walked the tall shrubs blocking my view eventually parted and I saw the loch beside us. I have no idea which one, but it was a fairly small body of water that formed a shape that reminded me of a disproportionate hourglass, with the top half a little smaller than the bottom. I felt the wind much stronger out there in the open and pulled my sleeves down past my hands. And so we walked with the thistles scratching lightly against my ankles. 

‘I think I get where you’re coming from, but isn't it still lonely? Are you living here alone?’

‘No, it's been my dream to live in a place like this, but I had to wait till the children were out. As soon as they started their own lives I dragged my husband up here and we’ve been living here for about 5 years now. You didn't come here alone, did you ?’

‘Um, yes. I... I was meant to come here with my husband. We haven’t been on a holiday that isn’t about sightseeing or beaches so we thought this would be a nice change,’ I said looking up and letting the breeze dance up my neck.

‘What happened to the husband?’

‘Well, let's just say we won't be calling him that for much longer. Filed for divorce about a month ago. Like I said, we were meant to come here together, but with this whole situation I decided to come up alone, maybe it will do me some good.’ I was hoping to sound confident or indifferent, but I'm not sure that came across. Anna walked beside me in silence, I don't think she knew what to say to that. 

‘I’m not so good at advice, and how are the words of a stranger you just met going to help you. But if you can manage here without any of the things we are brought up to believe we need, then you’ll quickly realise that you’re fine on your own. The social pressures, the niceties, the husbands. I'm not saying you should live like a hermit, just that you need to be fine on your own and this is the perfect place to figure all that out.’

We talked like this for about an hour or so, doing a full circle around this loch, and we moved on from these deep topics onto how to fish, how she is starting an orchard, even how Benny was once a Bonnie till they noticed that he was actually a boy. We reached that same opening that led back into the forest and that’s when we decided to part ways. Anna’s husband had been sat fishing all day and she left me to go meet him before they went home to make dinner. ‘If he hasn’t caught anything he’s going to get an earful, he’s only been sat there all day. He’s probably fallen asleep.’ And as I left back through the forest, she promised to teach me how to fish one of the next few days. 

——————————

Although I was grateful to have met so sweet an individual so early in my stay here, I was very excited to get out of the cold that was beginning to numb my toes, but I was disheartened when I finally reached the cabin. Obviously, there was no heating. I started a fire that I knew would take a very long time to heat up that whole place, so I went to make a start on dinner, hoping that by the time I was done, the place would be nice and snug.

Dinner. Why is dinner a task of such high demand? Back at home anytime I was feeling down or lazy he would put music on and before the words even started I would be up and swaying, absentmindedly getting the pots out while dancing lightly across the kitchen floor. Here, I had no radio or speaker… but… I also didn’t have an audience. So I slowly got up, took off my jumper, and started humming the opening to Mamma Mia myself. It was strange, I didn’t even like the movie but that was the first song that came to mind. I kind of felt like her. Meryl Streep - Donna. I felt like her! Alone in a weird old house that doesn't really work, figuring out how to be alone and proud of it. I mean, It took me a little longer than usual to get comfortable, I didn't just burst into song like her, but eventually, I did loosen up.

As the natural light left me, I stood swaying and singing in the middle of the cabin while hunched over a candle, squinting at the instructions for the Aga stove. Within half an hour, I was belting ‘Gimme Gimme Gimme’ and swinging the knife in the air, only bringing it down momentarily to deal with the vegetables. There was no one to hear me, so I just belted it out, spinning or shuffling when I needed to cross the kitchen, till finally, I could make us of such a grand table, and I placed down the warm chicken dish. Nothing fancy at all, but with the candle in the middle and the evening glow from the window settling down on the steaming dish, it looked quite romantic. 

I then realised I was still in the same clothes. As I was here on my own I had half a mind to just change into pyjamas. But I knew what that would lead to. Sitting curled up sadly reminiscing in the grandma chair. So I wore a summer dress. Yes in the middle of winter, when I just recovered from frozen limbs I decided to wear a dress. I had warmed the house up but I knew it wasn’t warm enough for a dress, but I stubbornly decided I would just keep moving and deal with it. I wanted to dress up for a date with myself.

Sitting at the head of the 6 seater deep brown table was quite intimidating. Like I was hosting a dinner that no one turned up to. But I didn't feel let down or alone. I was content. And as I ate my first meal, little shadows started dancing across the table. I looked up at the window opposite me and tilted my head. It had begun to snow. Although the wood stack was full when I got there I knew it wouldn’t last very long at all. That was tomorrow’s job, to find some firewood and I knew that would be harder than today's challenge of just cooking some chicken.

My eyes flitted across the scenery as I tried to focus on one little flake at a time. I was content. Not happy. Not yet. But content was something I could deal with, and I knew happy would come with time.