“The Road NOT Taken”

Road NOT taken!

           Last weekend we did a quick turn-around trip to our cabin in Leakey, Texas. Because of transportation problems over the last few years, we’ve neglected both the cabin’s exterior and the massive cedar take-over of the acreage. Now that we have our Bronco Sport, heading down the rough road isn’t a problem. David’s selected areas on the property to create trails through the cedars; with going up the hill behind the cabin taking priority as the top of it is our only section where we get cellphone reception.

          The porch, which we built more than thirty years ago, attaches to the metal building and sprung a leak during our long absence. Last November, we noted the water damage, and David decided to bring some GREAT STUFF up on the next visit to seal the leak. In January, he sprayed both from the roof line above and within the porch below. This time, it was obvious that everything dried out. Now we have to figure out how to fix the damage, an extra problem since it’s only the two of us. We brainstormed on ways to remove the rotten parts, reinforce the zone with new wood, and also treat the remainder of the porch’s wood to preserve it. I’ll spend time researching the exterior paints with waterproofing before the next visit. The cabin’s exterior wood needs both repairs and paint. We’ll toil at these tasks for the remainder of this year.

            We’re never ones to shy away from hard work, but since my both of my knees have had slight injuries, I’m extra cautious when we’re at the cabin now since another twisted knee is a major setback I don’t want to deal with. For safety purposes, I wear ankle high, steel toed hiking boots instead of the tennis shoes I’ve worn for years. If  I step down the ramp, my heavy boots adorn my feet. I crawl at a careful pace going up the back hill. I test the inclines of slopes before heading back down. That means a zigzag path with David nearby to offer a hand of assistance.

            On Sunday, we started down one of the dry creek beds. It’s one of my favorite treks. With extreme vigilance, I picked my way along the rocks and gravel. David, eyes forward and moving at his normal pace, left me in the dust! About ten feet in, I called out, “I think this is too difficult for me right now. I’m going back to the road!” Frankly, I didn’t know whether I felt defeated or victorious. One the one hand, I didn’t venture down a road I’ve taken many, many times with ease. Although my knees felt fine, I didn’t want to risk re-injury. The younger, less arthritic Liz wouldn’t have turned back. Even a couple of years ago, I would’ve pushed myself a little harder. The practical, new Liz listened to my body’s whispered, “Maybe not . . .” and heeded the warning. NOT taking the rocky road is a huge victory for my more alert self.

            I suspect my new mantle of prudence will wrap me in security from now on when working at the cabin. I see myself climbing up and down a ladder with paintbrush in hand, and eventually knowing my footing’s sure enough to trek both dry creek beds. It will be done with a slow and steady pace, though.

Actual road I walked!

Copyright 2023 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman  

             

“The Silver Lining”

 
 
            My husband’s company informed him last week that his department will work remotely permanently. My resounding “Whoop!” shook the windows. We definitely celebrated this news.

            David worked for fourteen years from the home as a freelance illustrator. During those years, we loved that our son always came home to a parent in the house. When we decided to homeschool, my son and I designed his coursework, but David daily donned the role of teacher. Working from home meant we could back-burn our oldest car and keep it going for twenty years. It meant I came home to less housework and cooking because David could wash a load of clothes or run the vacuum when he took a break. During my breaks from teaching, we slowed the pace of our days—no alarm clocks all summer long! 

            The disadvantage for this type of work, of course, is that it’s a feast-or-famine financial forage. Income fluctuated dramatically from month to month and contract to contract. There are no benefits like medical coverage unless you pay out-of-pocket. No paid vacations. If David didn’t work, he didn’t earn. His parents would get upset when we couldn’t join the family on one of their various vacations. They didn’t understand that to go on a trip for a couple of weeks meant we’d have to have the money saved for both the cost of the vacation plus two weeks’ pay! Because he never knew when the next round of work would surface, we tried to live as much as possible within my Texas teacher’s low salary.
            With David’s current situation, we have the security of a regular salary and benefits coupled with the easier, slower pace that comes from working from home. David’s six-year-old car’s 75,000 odometer reading no longer worries me. The week before last, my mind ran through the scenario that we’d need to replace it long before my 2005 RX8 since David puts more than 1,400 miles a month on it. Now we’ll use it for errands all within ten miles from the house. I’m already only driving the Mazda weekly for a twenty minute spin to keep it running since I no longer need it for the part-time job I worked before COVID-19.

            We still start our mornings with an alarm clock, only it’s set at 7:15 instead of 5:15! David grabs a bowl of cereal and sets up his laptop for the day instead of rushing out the door for bumper-to-bumper traffic going across San Antonio. His department took walking breaks twice a day. Now that I can walk again, we’ll do the same breaks together. We lunch together, too.  David eats during one episode of House Hunters-International, and we admire the adventuresome spirit of the people highlighted.
            In all of the financial losses, illnesses and deaths caused by a pandemic, we’ve found our silver lining.

Copyright 2020 Elizabeth Abrams Chapman