I’m renting the same Wellfleet house for the fifth consecutive year. Considering I could barely find it that first year because of its wildly remote location, this seems almost remarkable.
I’m sleeping in a different bedroom this year, having given up my preferred ground floor accommodations for a room just one floor up, with a view of the pond, and without ghosts of summers past.
I adored that downstairs bedroom and considered it perfect for me. It’s the only bedroom (of a total of 4) with a mere half bath rather than a full, but as a person devoted to showering outdoors, this was never an issue for me. The bed faces windows which frame the pond beautifully and I never failed to sigh with joy whenever my eyes landed on the deep green water below.
One year, the property owner asked me if I thought there should be window treatments to provide privacy to guests staying in that downstairs room. I responded that he was talking to a woman who skinny dips in broad daylight, so that would be a “not necessary” from me. The windows remain bare.
Cape Cod has been a cherished destination for me for many years and this particular house has become incredibly special to me. I think it’s a combination of the location (off a long dirt road), the simple beauty of the decor and the comfort of gathering friends together for a week of good food and wine.
I love this house.
Early this morning I woke up in my new bedroom and with bleary eyes looked out the window. The impending storm had begun to make his presence known with skies heavy with rain. Everything looked soft and comfortably blurry. Cozy.
I rolled over and slept another hour, safe under the white cotton coverlet with Jeter stretched out on the floor at my feet.
I consider myself to be a loyal person. I’ve had the same mechanic, optician, dental practice, etc for decades and making the move from my previous and familiar space to a new location was an act I pondered far longer than most would. Leaving my room wasn’t easy.
In all honesty, my decision wasn’t fully made until after I arrived and walked the entire house from top to bottom. What ultimately made my decision was the presence of a desk in the bedroom only one floor up. I pictured myself sitting at it to write, something I’m incidentally not doing at the moment.
Abandoning that other room, the one which had been so comfortable for the previous four years, was difficult. The truth is, though, the room was no longer serving me in some weird way. It was time to inhabit a different space.
In a dark theater a couple of weeks ago, I had an absolute epiphany. Dating didn’t have to be what it’s always been. Focusing my attention on a single person and expecting the same in return no longer feels like a necessary component to a relationship to me. Why shouldn’t I date as in simply “go out with someone?” I’m an excellent date. May as well go with my strengths.
I don’t know if it was the threat of a French named storm, the wisdom perceived to be true about the impending full moon or just the combination of people I’ve gathered this summer week, but I’ve had a serious shift in perspective.
It’s time to experience one of my favorite places from a new vantage point. This year is different.