Nesting

This morning I am creating a nest. I am building it from scratch with spare parts that have been left around from

another owner. We are vacationing in a house on a lake near Grandfathers, since that currently has no running

water. We love it up here. It is a place that is carved in our hearts and our stories. 

Since this is a foreign house, I am trying to make it feel like home. We have been here for 2 days and now I see the

needs and small fixes I can do to make things more ‘ours’.  I have brewed coffee and put away the dishes from last

night. I have placed a small rug by the door to catch our shoes that are caked in pine needles and fallen beech

leaves and sand from the beach. I have moved the ottoman away from the chair it belongs to so that we have an

extra seat. We have more people than it sits. Charlie made a chair with two pillows and leaned them against the

end table. We are all working to build the nest. I am using pillows and blankets which I found in an upstairs closet

to make it comfy and a little bright. It is becoming more fitted to our needs.

The refrigerator is stocked with our favorites too, which also helps it feel like home. There is a big gallon of milk,

and orange juice, strawberries, blueberries, peaches. Lunch meat and cheese in the drawer. Wine and beer on the

door. I brought condiments from home in old jars and we served them with a knife. I like that better than the

squeeze jars anyway and I might do that at home now too. 

“Do we have peanut butter and jelly?” Charlie asked yesterday. Yes we do! Yes we d0! I thought. Score one for this

mother. But I calmly replied, “In the cupboard next to the stove.” When we come up here we have to plan well.

The closest general store, Avery’s, circa 1880, is about 25 minutes down the mountain. The closest modern grocery

store is about 45 minutes away, maybe 35 if you take the mountain roads at 45 miles per hour, which some of us

have been known to do. 

Today we will sit by the lake and our cousins will come up from a small town down the mountain. We will hike as

far as we dare. We will plunge into the lake. We will take out the canoe and fish and wade and wander. We will take

naps wherever we can find a spot, on the beach, on the grass out front, in one of the beds upstairs. There are

king-size beds in two of the rooms and space for 5 in another. There is a nook at the top of the stairs that can fit

more. The big bonus is a shack outside with two rooms, more like a porch really but we could move out there if

we needed to. It is a wide nest. It fits everyone and everything that you want to do. Play games until midnight?

Check. Eat all day? Check. Climb a tree? Check. Swim all the way across the lake? Check. 

Maybe I have written something similar before, about nesting and children and mothering. But the nests are

different these days. They are temporary, as everyone travels back to school, back to their own apartments,

flying across the country and taking trains from Boston. The nests created now have to serve a deeper need

for refreshment and rejuvenation and relaxing and resting for these young adults who are still my children,

who are still children at heart. They have to have enough good memories built in to remind them that it’s

okay to play. They have to have enough stimulation to show them that it’s worth coming back for. They have

to be full of love. There is no room for arguing or taking strong stands. When I mispronounced “Aussie” last night,

I have to let that be the joke. When I remind them of such and such and they say, “Mom, that never happened!”

I have to wonder if I did actually recall it right. When I suggest dessert after they’ve had 3 beers, I have to let it go.

No one wants dessert then. Tonight I’ll suggest it earlier. 

The thing is, despite their age and independence, the Nesting takes as much work as it did when they were infants,

and my husband was putting together the crib for the first time. I made sure all the blankets and pillows were

out of reach. There were no choking hazards or cords or danger. The coffee table had bumper pads around it.

The tub had a safe spout. The temperature was just right. Today the dangers are just as hazardous and many more.

I cannot control it. They are exposed to choking hazards and cords that will tear them apart. I won’t bother

making the long list here. There are no bumper pads big enough to protect them from the sharp edges of life.

The water will run too hot and then too cold. I can’t do anything about it. 

But what I can do is offer these small nests. These times to return home and not be told to put the jelly away.

These times to kick off their shoes, even when they are covered in pine needles, and not be scolded for bringing

all this dirt in the house. I can serve warm meals and smiles. Donuts for breakfast and for lunch. If we’re lucky,

we’ll laugh a lot. We’ll go for a swim after a hike that ended in the dark. We’ll sit by the fire and be still.

That is the best Nest I can provide. Life is hard and painful. Creating a soft nest is all I can do.

I am sitting under a huge pine tree. There is a nest perched high on one of the top branches. I can't imagine how

she built it. It is thick and sturdy, and although I'm sure it is abandoned, it has lasted, through the rain and the

wind. I'm not sure what drives us as mothers, the will and determination, the strength, and the creativity to build

these nests. We are certainly amazing creatures. We create in love for our children.