Williamsburg

t.i.r.e.d. m.e.

I'm ti-red.

Not so tired that I have to commit myself to the bed, but tired enough that I slept later than usual this morning, and have been moving slower throughout the afternoon and evening. One of my luxuries in life is being able to sleep late if needed. My husband doesn't wake me. How utterly sweet is that? That one thing he does makes me feel so special and appreciated. And the morning moments have become precious to me. I wake up when my eyes choose to open and if it is later than normal I find him leaned over me whispering bye to the pups and then he sees I'm awake and I get a gentle smile. Loved. That's what I feel in that moment. And that moment was this morning.

Williamsburg, Virginia was the destination of yesterday. To tell you how beautiful Colonial Williamsburg was set amongst the just-turned leaves is nearly impossible. The buildings are as you would expect, quite beautiful- some quaint, some regal, all relatively old. I stress that relatively part because it is just that. Relative to our country, the structures are old. Relative to our ages, the structures are old. But, relative to the buildings and structures belonging to other lands, eh... not so old.

The first time I went over seas we landed in Paris and stayed outside the city, past Versailles, in Guyancourt. Nick was playing in the 2002 French Open and it coincided with our 1 year dating anniversary so he took me with him for a mini tour starting in France, then to England, and ending in Germany. I'll get to the point. It changed me in many ways. On a Wednesday the players and caddies and the 'other halfs' that wanted to go along to the Pro-Am loaded on a bus and we swerved and climbed up hills on tiny roads and we winded our way down on the other sides of them until we got to some plot of land that was a golf course and as far as I was concerned, heaven. The French countryside awakened a new sense in me. As I walked along following Nick as he played, I met a wall. It was lovely and old and I wanted so badly to ask it "What have you seen?" I wished to hear all the stories this beautiful, gray, stone wall had witnessed. And I ran my fingers along the rough surface tracing the stones and had a moment when I really respected this inanimate object in front of me. I realized with a thud that this wall was most likely older than my country. Country, not as in land. Country as in United States of America. Many other aspects of this trip influenced me tremendously, but I attempt to not stray too far off course.

When sitting in cathedrals or palaces in England, France or Italy it is hard to imagine that the peeps that founded our nation sat in them too, and then they paddled the ocean blue and started from scratch. Our (now) historical wooden structures must have been quite a contrast for them. I imagine their culture shock and can't quite get there. It's impossible to truly comprehend. And then, coming over from Europe, today's visitors must think our oldest buildings look primitive compared to their much, much, much-older-than-ours buildings. But, then, starting from scratch means just that. It's step one, cut down the tree, kind of construction. Brick must have been gold. In Williamsburg, I often walk around and look at the employees dressed in period attire and think about how that felt in the summer heat with all the bugs and humidity and absolutely no relief from the elements. One after the other these quandaries appear. But, zap yourself forward to year 2010 and Williamsburg is nothing but a beauty, a genuine delight, that is convenient and easy to enjoy.

I especially love this cafe/coffee house named Aromas. The chef just so happened to be taking orders yesterday while we were there and he instructed the kitchen to make my favorite garden scramble from the breakfast menu even though it was mid afternoon! And needless to say they have French Roast coffee. It feels smart in there and I start the day at Aromas every trip up. Walking around the streets and William & Mary campus never gets boring. I amuse myself by finding a bronze statue of Thomas Jefferson and sitting in his lap, sometimes I smooch his cheek. I study the gardens and the architecture or talk to the sheep behind fences. I love walking in the streets that are closed to traffic and finding myself amongst other walkers and bikers, people with kids and dogs. The leaves added an extra bonus this time. Some had fallen and were placed as if an art director had designed a set. The leaves that were turning splashed so much color through the air. It was a day to savor and take deep breaths... and lots of photos... which mom took ample care of. She was buzzing so fast that she didn't have time to process her words through her brain before she spoke. I made a list of some of my favorite quotes from the day. They were hilarious. My all time favorite was "1607, Beth! That's really old. That's just past the 1500's." She was reading a brochure on Jamestown Settlement as we awaited our ferry ride over the river and found herself so overwhelmed and giddy that she didn't think about the words before they escaped. And she was right, of course; 1607 is after the 1500's, but she was trying to express that 15anything seems ancient to her and that it puts 1607 in new perspective when she thinks of it in those terms.

Mom loved the area. Intensely. She was on the verge of tears at one point because she turned and saw the Governor's Palace at the end of the long green and realized it was the building in a print she had hanging on her wall that she bought long ago. She felt about Williamsburg the way I felt about Versailles. It moved her. It felt to her like her place in the world, the place that shakes and rumbles something inside of you. Whether a location evokes flashes and sensations of memories you've never lived or you just feel rooted to the land, it still makes this irreversible impression on the soul that never fades. And something always calls out to you once you find a spot like that. It is the soul's home. The energy of that specific point on earth matches your own and it feels like crossing a finish line. Like a pursuit met with realization.

Williamsburg is a place both Nick and I love. We always say we could live there. But, I love that it meant so much to my mom and that she physically walked grounds that she deeply connects with her inner being. She has it in memory and wonderfully recorded on film and perhaps one day she will navigate her way there and call it home. She is, smartly, asleep downstairs and I become more drawn to my bed with each passing key stroke. It's nice to be tired from long days of good times and not from days spent trying to get to the end of them because they are a chore. That's the whole plan, right? Why else would we be here if not? To endure? To only make sacrifice? I think not. I think there's so much joy in experiences like those mentioned above and the gift of that is intended. Even in recalling them, I feel an ignition of the same happiness inside. Success. I close my eyes the way I opened them this morning, feeling special and smiling.