Counting the Time

Traditionally people mark the time in spring or with the start of a new year, but for me, it’s always fall. The drama of the leaves, the faint but distinct smell of earthy smoke hanging in the air…everything is a bit crisper and a bit richer like cinnamon. It’s when I pause, mark the time and explore the possibility of change. It’s my favorite time of year.

Last weekend Dan and I took off on one of our “getaways” – just the two of us. We try to do this several times a year. Sometimes we hop on a plane and sometimes we just pick a romantic B&B within driving distance. This time we drove up to Baltimore and got a place at the Inner Harbor for Dan’s annual get together and ballgame with his oldest and dearest friends. These friendships have lasted over 40 years and the gang continues to meet at least once a year. Last summer they came down and spent a weekend with us at the farm. I call them the “Big Chill” weekends ;). Dan was really anticipating this get together as one of the gang, our dear friend “G”, is battling a pretty dire cancer diagnosis.

I got up early Saturday morning so that I could get my long run in before we took off. It was my longest run to date – 18 miles. It was tough, but I did it. Running is a great meditation for me and it’s often when I do some of my best thinking. That morning I just remember the birds. The birds are getting ready to migrate for the winter and they congregate between two of our Walnut trees. It is impossible to describe what this looks and sounds like. I’ve tried to capture it through pictures and video – neither of which does it justice. There must be 300 or more birds flocking between our back paddock and our big Walnut tree. The sound of their chatter overwhelms you and then quite suddenly it grows quiet and they take flight, off to congregate somewhere else and discuss their travel plans. It is all at once eerie and quite beautiful. That morning they reminded me of the old song that Dan and I danced to at our wedding – Who Knows Where the Time Goes.

Across the evening sky, all the birds are leaving
But how can they know it's time for them to go?
…
But I will still be here, I have no thought of leaving.
I do not count the time.

I ran and I ran that morning. Runs this long can be strange because you mark the miles and the time but the only place you go is deeper within yourself. In the end you are wasted and renewed, exhausted and exhilarated. And while you end up in the same place you started, you clearly are not in the same place…not really.

It was a beautiful drive up and Dan and I took advantage of the time together to talk. I knew that Dan’s heart was heavy with his friend and whether or not this would be one of G’s last games. Baltimore is really Dan’s old stomping ground and it always brings back memories for him. As we drove past the train station he talked about how he used to take the train when he was a student at Columbia University. “When was that exactly?” I asked… “Oh, around 1968.” “Hm…that’s two years before I was born…”

We had a wonderful time. The gang shared stories from the past and did a lot of smiling and laughing. I’m always astounded at how Dan and his friends can so vividly recall their childhood. These annual get-togethers are in some sense always a dip into the past and I can see Dan and his friends marking the time in each other’s faces in a way that they just can’t do in the mirror.

Everyone was happy and relieved to see that G’s health is holding well and he is in great spirits. I guess I was expecting to find G marking the time with the fervor of someone for whom the horizon looms ever closer. Instead I found someone who has in fact stopped counting the time and started living - somehow more free to simply ignore the typical mile markers that we all sense. While no one talked about his health directly, they danced around it…talking about a possible cruise to Alaska and other things they would like to do “before…” This is how men deal with these things. G was quiet and then he said… “It’s really all about friends and family…that’s what it all comes down to in the end.” What else is there to say really?

We planned to be home early in the afternoon, but on the way back we allowed ourselves to get side tracked in Harper’s Ferry. If you aren’t familiar with this place you should check it out. It is a place rich in American history (something I am fascinated with). Dan suggested that we stop and spend some time there because he knew I would love it…”We can stop if you want, but that will delay us getting home…” “Let’s just do it” I replied.

It was a beautiful day and we took the town in at our leisure. We walked hand-in-hand, frequently stopping to kiss (like teenagers). We ate the best frozen custard cones (vanilla and raspberry swirls) with abandon and did some hiking along part of the Appalachian trail. We didn’t buy any souvenirs or take anything with us. We left nothing there to remember us by. We didn’t count the time.