I’ve finally gotten back to it. I had a sense of it coming too, a premonition if you will. It’s like a lot of things. I have plans to do something, but for some reason my brain and or body is not willing. I used to let it frustrate me, but the older I get, the more I’ve started to trust that feeling, to know that, this too, shall come in due time. I’d been ruminating on what was going to happen next to Milo & Mabel, and I even had the venue, the basic circumstance.
But the actual words were escaping me. I know the plot needs moving along, but I’ve been preferring to just write what comes and if it turns out 10 pages need to be distilled into 1 page, so be it.
Then it hit me a few days back, I wanted to “talk around” the central theme of the novel without really talking about it. Honestly, I wasn’t even sure there was a central theme, just a story. But for me, it coalesced on my trip back north and in the ensuing foggy illness.
My sense is that I’m writing about self-direction and autonomy. It’s a subject I think about quite a lot. Being able to not only take care of one’s self, but have the strength to follow through with the things that need to be done. It seems simple enough, but when you stop to think about it, it’s very complex. Not being pushed around by the elements, but rather push your way through them, to stand up and not be bowed. It’s much easier most of the time to go along to get along, but it takes a certain amount fortitude to be autonomous.
Alright, I’ve rambled on about this long enough, let’s get down to it.
Mabel wanted to go outside so we went out on the deck while we talked. He sniffed around the deck looking for any possible scraps from the other day’s festivities. He loves to get out in the air and sniff. Who knows how far off he can detect a scent? I’m sure someone does, but I haven’t a clue.
Antoine sweeps his hands in a wide arc, takes a deep breath and lets it out in a loud exhalation.
“It is so gorgeous here!” he exclaimed.
I didn’t respond, I was lost in thought.
Antoine repeated himself, then looked directly at me, raising an eyebrow.
“I’m sorry, I’m a bit in my head. I’m trying to figure out why I should make dinner at all. I mean, I told her I would, but why would she consider it a date? I’m just repaying her kindness.”
Antoine looked at me with compassion but I could also sense some exasperation in that look.
“Milo,” he said, “you have spent your life being pushed around by circumstances, yes?”
I asked him what he meant.
He leaned up against the railing and watched Mabel sniffing about. “Your entire life, from what I know at least, has been decided by people and things outside of your choice. You grew up in Portland, yes? You didn’t choose that. You didn’t question it. It was just where you were and what you did. And up to a point, that makes sense. You were young, you lived with your parents, you did what they told you to do.
“But at some point, you grew up. You have to make choices everyday – what to eat, when to sleep, where to go, when to take a piss, for god’s sake. You are in charge of those things. But those are simple and biological. You did them because they needed to be done. But they weren’t choices, if you know what I mean.”
I did and I didn’t. I said as such.
“But,” he continued, “But the thing here is, I don’t think you ever really started making choices, making the hard choices, the ones for where therer is no real answer, no clear path. You pee because you have to pee. But whether you treat this as a date or you treat it as just a thank you, is up to you and you alone.
I said, “Well clearly you have an opinion.”
Antoine laughed.
“Yes, I suppose I do. But even then, that is your choice whether to take that idea or not. I could be wrong. It is up to you, not me. But I will tell you this: If you keep leading yourself down the path of least resistance, your life here will be no different than the life you were leading and you will do the same things and get the same results.
“You have to be willing to reach for what you want, even sometimes if you aren’t sure what you want.” Here he comes over to me and puts his hands on my shoulders.
“Stop living your life being pushed around by the elements.”
“I’m trying.” I thought about it some more. “I think I’m trying, what do you mean, exactly?”
He took his hands down and pointed out to the water, the land, the mountains. He spoke loudly.
“As far as I can tell, this is the first real choice you’ve made entirely on your own, to stay here, to make this your home. And you really only got here with the help of Mabel.”
It was true, he thought. He was only here because he lost his mind and kidnapped a raccoon he thought was his mother. He really believed it at the time, or thought he did, but even now that memory was gnawing at him. How did I get here? What made me drive through the wilds and almost get arrested in Canada, live out in the woods in his car for days? And what led him to buy the camp?
“Mabel was your catalyst. Your catalyst to being yourself. And that’s fucking crazy, right?” I nodded. “Fucking crazy, perhaps, but also fucking amazing. He led you down this path but it was you who decided enough was enough, that you were taking a stand, facing down your fears and putting down some roots of your own. Not anyone else’s roots, but yours. Yours of your choosing.”
Milo was struck by something.
“You know, you never questioned me about Mabel being a boy.” It was true, he had just pointed it out and Antoine accepted it. Didn’t ask if he were going to change his name, or ever get it confused. Milo liked him for that.
“Why would I? That’s his name. Mabel.” On cue, Mabel came sniffing over to Antoine and he put his meaty, thick fingers on Mabel’s head.
“Good Mabel. You’re a good boy, aren’t you? Yeah, you are trying to tell us the bacon is ready, no? That sniffer of yours is better than any timer.”
I looked at this man, this beast of a man, this cross between a mountain man and a gourmet chef and felt an affection out of step with my usual mien. Not a physical attraction, but something akin to genuine affection for someone I hadn’t known for a week. He possesses so much talent, bonhomie, and confidence, it’s hard not to feel like you want to see that, to want to emulate it.
“So, what, are you my Mabel now?”
Antoine smiled. “Maybe. More likely Mabel and I are in cahoots. We both see what a great guy you are, just that you need a little bit of a push to realize it too. See what you can become when you no longer let yourself be pushed around by the elements, but when you are the one doing the pushing.”
That’s all for today! If you have any thoughts, feedback, criticism, etc. please please please let me know in the comment section. I know it is still raw, even my editor
has not seen these yet, but still, I welcome any thoughts.Thanks for indulging me,
~ Tim
You keep it coming to--while I ponder, you dear soul and encourager.
Love this ❤️