Basket of burdens

The gravel crunches under her boots and with every step the basket she carries gets heavier. This burden is not the only one weighing her down. She can feel the muscles in her forearms crying out for reprieve, but she keeps going. It isn’t until a big rock she can’t see for the basket, that she stumbles and clothes go flying, along with the laundry soap. “Shit!” she says, and catches herself from scraping up her knees by landing on the basket. Someone probably saw that and had a good laugh.

Brushing off her hands, she rolls to a sitting position to catch her breath and shake her head, forearms resting on her bent knees, her head down between her legs. Well, her arms are getting the rest they needed, she chuckles and tries to think positively. It’s been easy to wallow in self-pity with all she’s been hit with, but she’s made the choice for herself to look for the silver lining in life’s events.

The basket is not going to carry itself, Rachel thinks. She’s vowed that she will take taller steps, lifting her boots higher as she walks back to the travel trailer, then laughing at herself because she realizes she must look like an idiot, carrying a laundry basket that’s too heavy, her knees keep hitting the bottom of the basket and shoving it into her chest, while she appears to be marching. Being able to laugh at yourself is the best medicine.

“Is this the right row?” she questions herself. This is a huge RV park and she’s never been good with directions. She’s tried to train herself to look for landmarks while she traverses somewhere unknown the first time, but she wasn’t paying attention this time when she walked to the laundromat. If this was going to take even longer, she was going to have to rest.

As if God heard her plea, a bench appears ahead. She’ll look like she was meant to be here, rather than sitting on the ground. Rachel’s back is killing her when she drops the basket on the bench and plops down next to it. Sweat drips down the middle of her back as she takes the flannel shirt off and ties it around her waist.

Arms stretched out on the back of the bench, she leans her head back in the shade of the cottonwood tree and releases a giant breath. Fuzzies fly everywhere and are stuck on leaves and clothing. So much has gathered on the ground around the tree it appears one could shovel it like snow.

Her head comes back up and her eyes open when she hears the obvious shouts of youth enjoying the water. What is it about water that makes people loud? She doesn’t care, she just wishes it was her splashing around and cooling off, whooping it up and having a grand old time. Ahh, the innocence of youth and the feel of timelessness. Where have the years gone?

A faded red canoe tied to a stake on the shore just aways down the river bank catches her attention. It leans to the side with a wooden paddle hanging out. Across the bow the words Jones RV park are painted in white. Silly of her to think she would grab the canoe and take off. She’s not a little kid anymore and she has a basket of laundry to take back, but it’s as if God has put these things in her path. The bench, the canoe. Responsibilities loom, and yet…

No one will miss her, as Jake went fishing and she stayed behind to do necessary chores. He’ll be gone for two more hours at least.

She’s never canoed alone before, but how hard could it be on this glass surface lake? A few years ago, she and Jake took an all-day canoe trip with friends down the Wisconsin River. She still laughs to herself thinking of their first hour in that canoe together, spinning in circles. No one ever said she was athletic.

The water is shallow here, so she doesn’t tip the canoe when she puts a boot in the bottom. She’ll have to push off with her paddle. A few strokes and she’s not touching the bottom anymore. First she’s going left a lot and then she flips the paddle to the other side and she’s going right a lot. Oh, what the hell, it doesn’t matter, there’s no one here to complain, and Rachel quickly realizes this is more peaceful than she remembered. She paddles further from shore but turns back for one last look. Her laundry still sits on the bench, chiding her.

Low branches along the shore hide shady spots that call to her. Pulling her hair in a ponytail, she paddles to the edge. The sweet sound of song birds replaces the noise of the lake, as she holds her paddle still against the side of the canoe, water dripping into the clear blue. She’s scared the birds away as she gets closer, but she can hear them above. Rachel ducks under low hanging branches and paddles softly, spying a turtle plunking into the water from a log. What beauty in this quiet peace. It’s the meditation her oncologist told her would help with the anxiety of the unknown, but she doesn’t want to think about that right now. She wants to capture every moment, not knowing how many are left.

A hidden, small passage through tall reeds looms ahead. Should she take the path less traveled or stay where it’s safe? Rachel has chosen safe and predictable her whole life. It’s a quandary she’s frustrated with in herself. Safe and predictable made life easier, but it also made life boring. It made her boring. She recalls a recent trip to the book store, where she glanced at a book about couples asking each other a question a day to get to know each other better. She laughed, knowing there were no undiscovered things about her. All the fun and spontaneity was gone. She often asked herself what her purpose was. Did anyone really need her anymore? Was this just a mid-life crisis?

The reeds pull her in to their hidden cove. She has to grab a few of them to slow herself down or she’ll end up in the middle of them. Red-wing blackbirds watch her as they latch on and bend with the reeds. She keeps going, spying different paths, and taking them further in. There are so many twists and turns and it’s hard to see around each bend until she is there. Where will it take her? What is next? Deeper meaning than she wants to acknowledge right now.

A small area opens up in the reeds and she slows the boat to rest and enjoy the calm. A group of geese mingle together near the shore and spot her, paddling away.

She lays the paddle in the bottom of the canoe. She and Jake should have done more of this a long time ago. How is she going to explain to Jake that his lifelong dream of retirement and traveling by RV is going to be compromised? It’s all he’s talked about for the last few years. He researched and planned, saved and bought his dream truck, not knowing abnormal cells were growing inside Rachel’s breast that would require staying home for treatments. She just can’t bring herself to tell him yet. This was only their second trip in the new trailer. Chemo starts 4 days after they get back.

Huge raindrops surprise Rachel as they plunk down on her arms and face, and mingle with the tears. She’s only 54, and lost. Lost on this roller coaster of regret and fear. Possibly even lost on this lake. These were supposed to be the good years. Empty nesters with time on their hands and a whole country to discover.

Panic rises in her and she feels her stomach turn. She’s going to ruin it all, either that or she’ll get lost on this lake and never return.

The drops fall heavier now and her head tilts up to notice the gray clouds she hadn’t seen before. Well, she’s going to get wet and so are the clothes in the basket on the bench. It will be even heavier than before, but burdens usually get worse before they get better. Pray, her mother always said. In all things, pray.

Drops soak her hair and tank top, but she bows her head and asks God for the strength to get through her treatments and bravery to tell Jake tonight, and mostly that he won’t be disappointed. It seems silly to worry that Jake will be upset with her, he’s always been a supportive husband, but she also knows he’s been waiting so long for this freedom in their lives. “God, also help me to get back to shore.”

Definitely lost, it’s one of the quirks about her, but she paddles like her life depends on it. Small strokes, turning corners, backtracking, until she hears the voices of kids yelling and playing. She knows she’s close, but it’s like being in a corn maze. You can hear people on the other sides, but how do you get there? Lots of dead ends.

She ties the canoe to the post again and shakes out her hair. She’s sopping and chooses to leave the basket right where it is. No way she’s carrying that burden any further. Jake can help her with it later. She’s going to need his help a lot.

She’s bowing her head walking through the rain, but when she spots his silver truck she knows she’s heading in the right direction. Jake opens the trailer door as she approaches jogging down the steps to meet her. “I was worried about you. You weren’t here when I got back. I thought I’d find you reading and drinking wine under the awning,” he says with a smile.

Her burdens feel lighter with Jake’s arms around her. Why didn’t she trust this before? Maybe there are things they don’t know about each other. Perhaps there are questions still unanswered. Perhaps there is still new life left to be lived. She’s going to talk to Jake, and then she’s going to buy that book when they get home.