The Dark Side

Mark and I had a fight the first weekend we visited Arden six years ago. Actually, we were embroiled in ongoing personal gunk in the months before we came to our first Arden getaway. The muck we were going through wasn't the kind of stuff you fight over, more like the kind of thing you for which you band together as a couple. Still, the situation was long, drawn out, and it was taxing us. We needed the mental, emotional, and physical break of a weekend away more than anyone could possibly know.

It started off on a bad foot. I met Mark at his work which was half-way to Arden. He couldn't get out as quickly as I wanted, so I had to wait for him. But soon we were on our way. Not sure why, but we stopped for a Chadd's Ford wine tasting along the way. I guess it was to soften the edges so we could officially get ourselves into weekend mode. I have documented that weekend in other blog entries, but never told the story of the fight we had. I believe it was our second night. We were walking back to the Little House from seeing a musical at the Candlelight Theater. It was dark, and I couldn't see where I was going on Arden's strange, curvy, bumpy roads and paths. I wasn't used to the dark. I don't even like driving in the dark. Mark didn't slow his pace, telling me that my eyes would adjust. I am also someone who falls. I am the kind of person who trips over her own feet, while Mark is the type of person who did hurdles in high school.  He flies over obstacles, and could cross a raging river on a tightrope if he needed to. Did we have cell phones to use as flashlights? I'm not sure. If we did, Mark scoffed at using them. The whole exchange got heated. He stomped away while I fumbled in the dark, in tears. I am sure that the dark wasn't the real reason for the fight. We made up that night, but not right away.

Six years later and we are at a Brews and Bands event, the last concert of the season at the Gild Hall. I wanted to leave the event earlier than Mark did. I got the key from him and walked home by myself--well after midnight. After you get beyond the Gild Hall parking lot, it is dark. No street lights for these quirky camp roads of ours. I had my phone with me, but I didn't need to use the flashlight mode to see or to be seen. I just walked that last half mile home in the quiet, dark of the night. I have developed my night vision in Arden. I love walking around here after dark. It really does awaken the senses and sharpens the mind even as it is relaxing it. I am not more sure-footed than I was, but I am more trusting in my ability to navigate. I know, from repeated wanderings, where the roads curve and bump. As I was walking. I looked up at the stars and, as I was freshly dosed with allergy medicine, I breathed deep. In the dark stillness, I took myself back to that first night walk and remembered how on edge we both were. I wish I could reach out to my younger self and tell her how things would turn around. I wish I could tell her that she didn't have to fear the dark places in her life because the dark is the place from which the seed gathers energy, cracks its hard shell, and starts to grow. Most of all, I would love to tell her that yes, she would make Arden her home one day, and it would be transcendent and worth the trouble of getting here.

Last night, I came home, locked the door, realized that Mark didn't have the key, unlocked the door, and went to bed. At 5:30 AM, I discovered Mark wasn't in bed. I panicked, wide awake, and reached for my phone.  Had something happened to him? Had he falling a ditch somewhere between here and the Gild Hall? Had he been run over? I saw then that he had texted me that he had been locked out and was sleeping in his car. Apparently, I hadn't completely released the lock when I attempted to unlock the door last night. I ran outside and ushered him in. He was cold, but unharmed. Not angry. It will make a good story. I love this man. I love this place. I am beginning to really love the dark.