The Hunter Museum

I had just finished dropping my daughter off for her first day of a summer camp. It tugged at my heart strings watching her wave goodbye with her nervous 'first day' smile. I had given her a warm hug and the words of encouragement she needed. But now, it was time for a 'me day'. Words that were rare and far in-between the realities of my busy life. I was on my way to do something that would bring me joy beyond words, a visit to The Hunter Museum.

When I found my parking spot and my car engine had officially been turned off, a wave of child-like excitement came over me. My quiet morning of aimless wandering awaited me. The art and glory of doing something that feels like nothing, however, is everything to a busy Mom.

First breakfast, all to oneself. Is there anything more appealing? I wandered to Rembrandt's coffee shop to place my order of a cappuccino and a warm croissant. As the barrista handed me my plate and foamy Cappuccino I smiled delighted. I felt almost giddy as I wandered out to their outdoor patio.

The stone patio is a magical place that sits under the waterfall of Wysteria. Little birds actively fly around and hop along the floor searching for crumbs. As I sat at the Parisian style table under the swaying flowers, I people watched and slowly sipped from my warm Cappuccino. I didn't need to look at my watch. I didn't need to look at my phone. I knew I had free time and wasn't going to waste a moment of it.

Today, was about me. As selfish as that may sound, it was. It was all about me. A delicious gift that life had handed to me last minute. My daughter wasn't supposed to be at camp today but the opportunity presented itself through a mutual friend. Life just worked out that way and God's timing was perfect. I needed this. We had recently moved into our new house and I was physically and mentally exhausted.

Most of my evenings I had spent exploring our new city of Chattanooga only through pictures on my phone. The Hunter Museum had been on my list of one of the places I wanted to visit most. I was a Museum enthusiast. I find so much joy learning and staring at artwork. I can just sit on a bench in a museum for an hour and stare at a painting. Some might think that odd, but it fills my soul and everything fades away. All the anxiety, all the worries of the world, just drifts into the paint.

From where I was sitting enjoying my breakfast, I could see the Hunter museums entrance. I could take all the time I needed. However, my excitement got the best of me and so I quickly finished my croissant and I excitedly made my way to the entrance. I proudly presented my entry pass on my phone.

What a beautiful space. As you enter you are greeted by huge windows that open to a patio. I stepped outside and was welcomed to a spectacular view of the Tennessee River. Back inside there isn't any music playing and the sound of silence was like music to me. There's something about walking into a large purposefully quiet space that overwhelms the senses in just the best sort of way.

I learned from my visit that the museum sits atop a bluff that is rich in history. It was in fact used as a lookout during the Civil War. The Hunter Museum of American Art is an art museum attached to a Neoclassical- style brick building that was completed in 1905. A family lived there and later sold it in 1920 to Benjamin and Anne Thomas who were Aunt and Uncle to George Hunter for whom the museum is named after. It's been open since 1952.

I loved wandering aimlessly soaking it all in. There were truly some of the best glass pieces of art I've ever seen in my life. I had never really loved glass and now I have a dream of putting a stained-glass window in a future home because of how the glass moved me at their exhibit.

My favorite part was walking into the home itself. The rich carpet covered wood stairs creaked with every step I took making my way upwards into the house. When I reached the top of the staircase, the view is breathtaking. There are large windows that have a stunning view of the city and Lookout mountain. I imagined every day living in the home and enjoying these beautiful views throughout the seasons. From the mountain to the river running behind, these were elements one would long for in one’s life.

I stopped and stared at a bronze sculpture called "The End of the Trail" by artist, James Earl Fraser. My parents who have both passed away had a replica in their home. I grew up looking at it often and I had a moment of feeling like they were standing next to me. Perhaps they were, proud of the woman I had become and the mother I am.

I had no sense of time that day. I spent hours there. I wandered around the entire museum. I was deliriously happy. I didn't take any photographs. There is joy in that, keeping ones phone out of sight and out of mind. I kept it on vibrate in case the camp called but there was never a buzz. When I finally exited the museum I felt filled. It was a perfect half day spent.

When I sat back in my car I let out a lovely sigh. A sigh filled with relief and happiness all released at once. I took out my phone and entered back into the real world. I checked back in with my husband and stared at the time. Her camp would end soon and the tug of my heart gave in. I missed her terribly. It had just been a few hours of free time, but I missed her, I missed him, I missed my dogs. I was thrilled to be driving to bring her back home and back to our wonderfully imperfect life.

It makes me laugh how badly I crave that rare free time for myself and once I have it, all I want more than anything is to just be back with my family. But that's life isn't it?