Rich and I made the news this weekend. We live on the coast and a no'easter was whipping over Nova Scotia onto our land. Either brave or just a little bit foolish, we bundled up and headed to the beach at near high tide.
The local news station had a weather van parked outside our house, as they often do in stormy weather. But the waves weren't all the astronomical and we crept forward, until we were edged against the rocks. And then came a crasher. A real whale of a wave that sailed over the rocks at us. I spun around crying, "that was awesome!" my jacket wet and salty. But Rich, he was running. I didn't realize this until the footage aired on the six o'clock news, and then again on the National news, but he really took off. I make fun of him for it and groan about how I have a dog that will ditch me in a fire and a husband who will ditch me in a flood. But I wonder, when it comes down to it, who's protecting who? Or are we all just trying to keep ourselves alive? And how do you know if your people will stay beside you when the surf becomes astronomical?
I understand this principle of flight. I've dreamt a hundred times in my decade of adulthood of taking off. Just hitting the cruise control and heading north. Once, during a particularly disastrous relationship in my early 20's, I did just that- driving alone twenty one hours from Boston to the heart of Nova Scotia. Without telling anyone. At the time I thought I was displaying my great independence. But I understand now that there is a need, at least in some of us, to be chased like a treasure. Canada was cold, and the coffee was horrid, and I drove home without a single voicemail, feeling as empty as my gas tank. Maybe it's not normal, but I wanted to be followed. I wanted someone to think I was a little brave, even foolish. I still want that. I'll be married to this man forever, this I know. But I still want him to find me worth following.
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