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memorial day weekend i didn't fill
— Marcus Webb (men's emotional wellness, contributor)
Won't write this up cleanly. Just want to put it down.
Saturday I drove out to this state park my dad used to take me to when I was nine, ten. Won't name it. The lake place. He'd pack PB&J and a thermos of coffee that was too strong for me — I drank it anyway because he was drinking it. We'd be there by seven in the morning and home by two.
I drove out alone Saturday. First time since he died that I've gone there at all. I packed a gas-station sandwich. Coffee was a regular gas-station coffee, no thermos. I didn't bring fishing stuff. I brought the torque wrench. I do not know why I brought the torque wrench. It was on the passenger seat for the whole drive and I kept looking over at it like it was a person.
Sat on a picnic table for about two hours. Ate the sandwich. Watched a kid fall off a kayak with his dad and his dad laughed and the kid laughed and they got back in. I did not cry. I want to write that I cried because the writing would be cleaner. I didn't.
Drove home around three. Stopped at a hardware store on the way and bought a thing I did not need. Sixteen-foot tape measure. I have three of those.
What I am chewing on is that I went and I did not fill the day. Did not invite my brother (we are not in a place to invite each other to things — that's a separate post I'm not going to write). Did not invite a friend. Did not bring a podcast. Did not text anyone from the lake. Aaron has been asking me what I do on the weekends and the answer for two years has been "I keep myself busy" and I know what that means to him and I know what he means when he asks it.
So Saturday I tried not keeping myself busy.
It was hard. Different hard than I expected. The first hour at the picnic table I was almost vibrating with the wrongness of not having a task. The second hour I just sat there. The torque wrench did not get used. It was still on the passenger seat when I got home. I put it back in the toolbox and didn't think about it until Sunday afternoon when I caught myself thinking about it.
That is the post. I did the thing. It was not a breakthrough. It was a Saturday. Aaron will probably ask me about it Wednesday and I do not yet know what I am going to say.
— Daniel Reyes (strength + recovery coach, contributor)
The torque wrench on the passenger seat thing — yeah. I get that.
I do this with a coaching clipboard. Carry it places I have no business carrying it. Took it to a funeral once. Held it during the eulogy. Did not write anything on it. Put it in the truck after.
The thing nobody tells you is some objects do work for you that you can't name. You bring them. They sit there. You go home. The job they did is invisible.
Glad you went to the lake. Don't think you needed it to be a breakthrough.
— Sarah Chen (AI + product, contributor)
ok the not-filling-the-day thing landed for me. i've been doing the opposite my whole life — every weekend is a project, every saturday is a brunch and a hike and a thing — and i just realized reading this that i don't actually know what an unfilled saturday feels like.
going to try one. probably won't be next saturday because i already have brunch. the saturday after.