From the front porch I studied the lake and the fields and deer grazing along the tree line. On the west side were a flock of geese; the ducks foraged along the lake’s edge. I imprinted the scene on my mind as I contemplated our upcoming vacation.
Most people are excited about vacation, but I am not. It makes me anxious to leave the Prairie home. I fear thresholds like Jack, my cat. For 16 years Jack has hesitated at thresholds, the very thresholds he crosses daily. The thresholds that Sam would like to boot him over but doesn’t if I’m watching. I think perhaps Sam would like to boot me over the threshold.
Instead, Sam reminds me we haven’t had a vacation in two years. He reminds me he’s been asked to be the godfather to 6-month-old Ryleigh. He reminds me we could make a camping trip out of the event. He reminds me we could hike, kayak and have campfires. He reminds me we are taking our own camper and it would be like home, without the washing machine and the vacuum cleaner. He reminds me it’s really only a long weekend.
But I must leave my menagerie. I whine a bit. Jack (he’s deaf you know), the ducks, the rabbits, goldfish, beta, even the deer that graze in the field and those in the yard under the pear tree. Will the deer be here when I come back? Will everything have changed? Oh, and there’s the greenhouse. I have two cantaloupes maturing. Sam assures me the cantaloupes will be fine.
My neighbor, Rebecca, is a responsible pet and plant sitter. She says she is also going camping the same weekend but agrees to do what feedings she can. Shirley, my walking partner, volunteers to do the other feedings. There’s nothing Shirley can’t or won’t do.
While sitting on the porch contemplating all these things, I glanced toward the boat shed, and there goes a possum creeping down the side, around, and right into the boat shed. I get up; it’s time to trap.
Jack had a half of a can of cat food in the refrigerator that I use as bait. I set the bait and the trap by the edge of the boat shed. Rebecca and Shirley are going to leave Jack inside, so there’s no danger of trapping Jack while I’m gone. It’s happened a few times.
And so it was that we left the Prairie home in capable hands and drove off towing our mobile house. At some point I crossed the threshold. By all appearances I was fine.
We arrived and set up at Chewacla State Park near Auburn, Alabama. We hiked, we kayaked; we had campfires. Sam held Ryleigh in a beautiful, sacred ceremony, surrounded by family.
That evening Ryleigh’s father set up two TVs — Auburn on one and Mississippi State on the other, and that weekend we were all winners.
(Note: A search for the scientific word for fear of thresholds was unsuccessful, though the condition is not uncommon. I did find a word for the fear of long words — hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia.)
You can help your community
Quality, in-depth journalism is essential to a healthy community. The Dispatch brings you the most complete reporting and insightful commentary in the Golden Triangle, but we need your help to continue our efforts. In the past week, our reporters have posted 37 articles to cdispatch.com. Please consider subscribing to our website for only $2.30 per week to help support local journalism and our community.