Backforty g WHEN AH SAYS WHOA… AH MEANS WHOA!

By Lee McLean

Like any old chore team, Mike and I have grown used to throwing our weight into the collars and pushing on. Somehow, we have forgotten how to stop and relax.

We’ve just come back from our first vacation together in 39 years of married life. True story. When one leaves behind a moody senior Border Collie, a recalcitrant feed truck and a shoot to kill order on mortally injured livestock, you can’t just whisk away for a weekend of fun and sun. These things need planning, along with just the right person to which you’ll hand over the keys to the kingdom. Thank goodness for our son.

But soon, the day dawned where we packed up our bright new beach duds and found ourselves guests in a tropical paradise. I’ll purposely not say where we were, as it was a private island in southern turquoise waters. There was nary a wired-up gate, nor a pile of orange bale wrap, in sight.

The first morning saw Mike and I resolutely dressed and caffeinated at daybreak. We were ready for something, though we’d no idea just what. By the seventh dawn, we were lazily rolling over and sleeping in. We grew uncaring of the outside world or the passing of time, shell seeking like children, snorkelling out amongst the tropical fishes and one day, even with dozens of reef sharks. I put effort only in improving my ability to mount a hammock gracefully. I’m quite proud of my results.

Mike learned to sail a boat and to paddle through the ocean while standing on a surf board. I wandered miles of beach, aimlessly, with only the company of the waves washing upon the white sand. Our alabaster skin gradually turned to a sunwarmed gold. I’m almost ashamed to say how little we wondered how things were faring back home. Turns out, everything was fine without us, as is almost always the case, should ever we dare to find out how

‘important’ we really are in the grand scheme.

When we returned home, I resolutely refused to swap out my flipflops until reaching the exit doors of the Calgary airport. Mike and I grew quiet over the icy drive home, but surprise! The dogs and cats were so happy to see us and it felt good to be back in the old house. Yes, the same repairs and jobs are still waiting to be done. Mike looked something of a stranger to me, back in his old Wranglers and plaid flannel shirt. But do you know what?

We learned that, horse or human, going forward is only one part. We still have to keep our good handle, should ever things get ‘western’… and when it comes down to it, knowing how to stop well matters every bit as much, as knowing how to run. WHR