My nation tis of thee

Independence day, 2009

On this historic day, in this historic time of Obama, I sit back, reflect and think about the little ‘nation’ of my own small life. I sort of think of it more as a tribe or a posse, but reflecting on that piece of the definition—‘a group of people united by a common interest’ I find it resonating with some thoughts from the day and the past week.
Somewhere between teenage angst and early adulthood I must’ve imagined what life would be like—as grown ups. I do not recall it exactly in the way I have been told by many girlfriends—the planning, the binders and pages of dresses and steps. No, I never imagined a wedding or who the groom might be. I did not pine secretly for a shiny engagement ring and the car, house, and 2.25 children that so many planned and saved for. But I did, I’m sure, imagine what life might have in store for me.
I had a thing for the ‘Brat Pack’ at one time. I remember secretly pining for the camaraderie of the St Elmo’s Fire gang (sans all the dysfunction as an idealistic teenager). I hoped that even if single, that I had a gaggle of friends—boys and girls, couples and singles—kids and dogs and Frisbees and picnics and camping. Holidays and birthdays, sometimes shared. Thanksgivings and Bat Mitzvahs, Christenings and Halloween costumes. Life and death and happily ever after, all wrapped up in the snotty shirtsleeves of the best friends (and family) who would always be there—who you’d always be there for.
In my adult life I’ve transplanted myself a number of times. I’ve removed the familiar and immersed within the brand new. Time has passed, and in every single instance, I have been incredibly fortunate. I have located a nurturing cell of living, breathing, lively, talented, compassionate, conscientious, fantastic human beings. They have become my extended family so many times, and now, as I find myself back ‘home’ in my mid-thirties, I am both rediscovering antiquated acquaintances as well as rekindling familial bonds. Day in and day out I realize that I have found my truest north—my most amazing circle—my nation, my tribe, my posse, and my heart.
An example of my amazing communal circle was evident last Saturday. Dear friends were celebrating the ninth birthday of their oldest daughter. A late afternoon soiree involving pirates and fairies, a treasure hunt, and then plentiful bootie ala potluck found an amalgam of friends and families conjoining to imbibe and enjoy. After chomping on the delicious vegetarian fare we were entertained with a talent show. From adults spewing bad pirate jokes and children singing solos and reciting their original poetry, we were transfixed and beholden to each other for the magic most certainly in the air.
The really fabulous reality of the event was that the humidity was ridiculous, producing sometimes downpours and most of the time, small air raids of needle-nose mosquito beaks. Ugh! The itching!! Yet we all stayed—for hours past when we might normally have fled for dear life. The following day I met a new friend for a hike along the beach and we wandered for hours, spending time over a mango tea freeze thereafter, I went home satiated in soul. My weekend more nourishing than any dose of ‘medicine’ could ever offer.
Today, this gorgeous Independence day, (after a week solid of dreary, grey rain and low temperatures) I spent the day in the verdant outdoors of the wonderland that is my home. We trekked the more technical upper Platte River via kayak and canoe. Lathering with sunscreen I readied myself for the long hike down the river, wondering how long it might take us, hopeful for the day to last forever. Although time spent in miscellaneous pods throughout the trip was frequent, my luxury was the slow, swift times alone, listening to birdcalls and smelling cold river water. Watching black & teal winged fireflies alight on my shoulder and collecting algae covered rocks, while waiting for the canoers to catch up. Overwhelmed with gratitude, I beam, for I am intertwined with the sweetest mix of family and friend. With children aplenty, I never feel lonely for the children who have gone. I see them in the gleaming bright eyes of Ada and Abby, of Nadia, Sonja, Noah and Jackson, Ezra and Olive. I hear their laughter in Isaac’s guttural guffaw and Casey’s sweet cackle. I am rare to pine for the soul mate I live without, for I am surrounded by so much love and support and friendship, that I hardly realize my solitude.
© Jenn Ryan 2009