A few years ago, we wrote RV Adventure at the top of our family’s New Year’s goals list.
We went RV hunting,
toured a few,
fell in love,
then the pandemic chomped two years out of our lives
and we went nowhere.
Finally, last year,
we rented a Winnebago
and went on the road for ten days.
Hubby drove for several hours
then pulled into a spot at the RV park
hooked us up and plugged us in.
Zuri hung our name tag on the pole,
marking our home for the night.
I set the cast iron pan on the stove
Drizzled in some olive oil and
sauté the shrimp for tacos.
I poured drinks into plastic wine glasses
And served dinner at the table that would later transform into Markolee’s bed.
At nightfall, we took a walk in the woods.
Zahara picked flowers for a floral crown
Fireflies blinked in the dark and
we ran from one beetle to the other,
chasing their luminescent lights.
A couple, at another RV park, rolled up into our driveway in their golf cart.
“Will you be here for the ice cream social tomorrow night?” the woman asked.
The couple chanted down a list of ice cream flavors they churned the day before.
We made a selection, still in shock, that
- They made ice-cream for realzzz
- They have been coming to this said park for ten years
- Ice cream was their passion and contribution to humanity
“We’ll be back,” they said
and I watched as their heads bopped
and their golf cart rocked from side to side down the hill.
Minutes later, they were at our door again,
individual containers of ice cream in tow.
They handed over our dessert:
Two fireball ice creams for hubby and me
cookies and cream, brownie fudge and pecan praline for the kiddos.
“Would you like to have a drink with us?” our neighbors at our last RV park asked as we sauntered past.
“Sure!”
“What would you like”? he asked
“What do you have? I replied
“Anything you want,” said the man holding a fancy-five-star-looking cocktail.
We walked past their firepit,
Onto a large black and white checkered rug that matched
the bench and tablecloth coverings on the picnic table outside.
You already know these people, don’t you?
You and I have friends like them — the ones who add a little extra — a bit of shimmer and sparkle, to everything.
You also know these new friends of ours had a three-tier lantern aglow atop the table outside.
Hubby and I followed them, up the stairs and into their RV mansion —
wooden floors, plush rugs, large stainless steel fridge,
the liquors, liqueurs, wine, fancy water in glass bottles,
wine glasses hanging like chandeliers over granite countertops.
The kitchen area is the man’s grandbaby.
The rest of the RV is the wife’s domain — the place she has used all the wisdom gleaned from HGTV.
She presses a button and a flat screen TV glides up from behind the table.
An electric fire pit glows in their bedroom, making it warm and toasty
And their king size bed that should take up all the space, doesn’t — there is more than enough room to walk past a bed that calls you by name.
Their ensuite bathroom is her favorite part — you already guessed it
… with heated floors and all.
We drank,
enjoyed each other’s company
and made no false promises to see each other again.
This was it!
A wonderful night of drinks by the fire with strangers who reminds us,
there are generous people in the world,
living their best lives in the least expected places.
“I can’t believe this place is tucked here in the woods,”
I said when Hubby and I sat on a bench at the lake’s edge.
I grew more and more fascinated
by the reflection of the clouds and trees in the glasslike water.
The word REFLECTION struck me—hard!
I wondered what I would look like if I truly looked at the parts of myself that you can’t see.
Am I a neighbor who invites you in with open arms, makes you a drink, gives you a tour of my home?
I used to be, but I’ve become more guarded over the years.
Would I be bold enough to share the little pieces of myself — to make ice cream and offer it without thinking?
No, I haven’t been, but I want to be.
I LOVE CONNECTING WITH YOU
Do you like the reflection you see?
ON WRITING
I’ve written the first draft of my manuscript overview. You can insert the image of a dancing woman here. According to one of my favorite authors, Anne Lamott, “A shitty first draft, while not a thing of beauty, is a miracle of victory over nothingness, inertia, and bad self-esteem.”
Not only does Ann talk about the first draft…author Anne Handley says, “IT’LL BE LOUSY. IT’LL BE UGLY.”
Basically, mine is written, but I’m not done with it yet:-)
Are you a writer? What are you working on?
WHAT I’M READING
Okay — so I finished reading In Every Mirror She is Black by Lola A. Åkerström and went searching for her on Youtube. I enjoyed listening as she discussed the characters, the process of writing — to outline or not to outline, down to how the title came to be. It’s quite fascinating to hear her thoughts behind the book.
During the Youtube interview, Lola flipped the script and asked the interviewer about her writing process. I was surprised to learn that this woman, Zakiya Dalila Harris, was also an author. “I am currently reading her book, The Other Black Girl. If you are a writer who aspires to be traditionally published, Zakiya’s novel gives a behind-the-scenes play of a traditional publishing house.
POEM OF THE WEEK
This week’s poem is by Rudy Francisco. To the Girl Who Works at Starbucks, Down the Street from My House on Del Mar Heights Road, I Swear to God I’m Not a Stalker.
Rudy performed this piece and a few others HERE. You should him out and tell me what you think?
Thanks again for sharing the poems that are near and dear to your hearts. Keep sending me your favorite poems and I will record them in the upcoming weeks.
ART BY ONTONIO
THANK YOU
Thank you for welcoming me into your inbox. It is a pleasure sharing with you and hearing from you about ways my writing has inspired or enriched your lives.
As always, I’m super thankful for all your support, encouraging comments, your expressions of gratitude, and your financial contributions.
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Until Next Time, Enjoy Your Next Breath
Kadine Christie
