A Personal Tradition Denied

I am a world-class sentimentalist. I have occasionally wondered if it might actually be some kind of mental problem. I really do not mind this aspect of myself so I do not feel any particular need to change. Anyway, sentimentality hit me pretty hard this morning.

For about the past dozen years my lady friend, Diana, and I have traveled from our home in Columbus, Ohio to a couple of state parks in Kentucky for a one week vacation. We go to the same state parks (Carter Caves and Natural Bridge) every year at the same time of year. We recognize many of the staff at Natural Bridge and are actually friends with some of the employees at the smaller state park, Carter Caves. The trip has become something of a tradition. Diana is a bird watcher. This time of year in this part of the country birds are migrating north. We also enjoy the spring wildflowers which are pretty much in full bloom in Kentucky when we are there.

About six weeks ago I made reservations for both park lodges, a three day stay at each. Within a day or two I knew that we likely would not be going this year. A pandemic was going to cancel our trip. About a month ago I got a call from Natural Bridge State Park informing me that their lodge was not going to be open. About two weeks ago I got the call from Carter Caves.

A few minutes ago I was looking out the window of my condo here in Columbus, Ohio. 10:15 in the morning. I got to thinking about the trip we could not take. I thought, right now, right this moment Diana and I would be in the Carter Caves's lodge restaurant. The restaurant would not be crowded. It never is. We would be sitting at a table next to a big window that looked out upon the Kentucky forest. On the table Diana would place her binoculars, on the ready to spot any warbler pausing in a tree. I would inspect the menu given to me by Rose, one of the servers we see every year and know by name. I might contemplate a breakfast of three buttermilk pancakes. Diana would be across the table from me, glancing at both her menu and occasionally out the window to the tall trees. I image that she would be ordering grits and a poached egg as she sometimes does.

It would be the end of our three day stay at Carter Caves and so in about an hour we would be loading up the car for our trek farther south to Natural Bridge. As we drive out of Carter Caves State Park I would probably feel a touch of bittersweet melancholy. Yes we would be traveling on to Natural Bridge, but for another year we would be saying farewell to Carter Caves.

This year I am left gazing out of my condo window. I have discovered that being a world-class sentimentalist can be extra hard during a pandemic. Don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining. The world is in the middle of a global pandemic and yet both Diana and I are fairly healthy physically and also financially. Furthermore I'm figuring we will be well next year, and so will Kentucky. I'm a sentimentalist and an optimist.