Just a Little Peace and Quiet

All I wanted was some peace and quiet.

Now, rain dings the metal roof and wind whistles through the gaps in the log walls. Wilderness sounds. Tranquil. I can’t help grinning. Now, this—this—is everything I wanted. Finally.

Brought the family up here. Back to nature, summer holiday. Drove four hours, through rush-hour traffic. Seven days, no cable, no Internet, no wireless. We packed books and board games instead, aiming to enjoy some real family time together. Just a simple cabin, acres of spruce and maple, and a private, tea-colored lake. Paradise, I thought. Still do.

I walk from room to room, my hiking boots echoing clomps in the silent space. Bit of a mess here and there, and I guess it’ll be left up to me to clean, but it can wait. I worked hard for this, and it’s come to fruition. Peace. And quiet. It sure took long enough.

It took a few days of settling in, but eventually everything fell into place. The boys picked their respective beds—top or bottom bunk—and Mother and I had a loft with a double bed. Cozy, yes, comfortable, hardly. But we’d make do; this was our version of roughing it.

Then things took a funny turn.

Jeremy and Joseph said they ‘couldn’t deal’ without their cell phones, and after three days of being Internet-free, they began yipping and arguing with each other. The verbal battle turned physical. When Jeremy grabbed a kitchen knife, their mother launched herself between her sons. After a struggle, her eldest son swung wide and accidentally stabbed her in the eye. The knife drove deep, hitting the back of her skull. Mother screamed and gurgled, then dropped. Incensed by his brother’s violence, Joseph threw himself onto Jeremy, knocked him to the floor, and straddled his body, bashing his head over and over against the poured-concrete floor until Jeremy fell limp. There was blood everywhere.

Realizing what he’d done, Joseph stood frozen in wide-eyed shock. He eyeballed me—did he expect me to help or chastise him, I wondered? Really, I’d just had enough drama, and all I needed was a beer. This particular outcome wasn’t quite what I’d expected when I booked our little family getaway. I sauntered towards the fridge, opened it, and grabbed a cold one. The pfffsst of the can as I popped the tab broke the deathly silence. One long swig and swallow restored my voice. I turned back to face my eldest son.

“What’s up, Joseph?” I asked. “What’re your plans for the rest of our vacation?”

He ran to the kitchen counter and grabbed the van keys, then sprinted out the cabin door. Hearing the engine roar as he stormed across the gravel driveway, I knew where he was going. And frankly, I knew how far he’d get. Because I’d fixed the brake lines so that there’d be no stopping once he floored it. Only I had figured that Mother and the boys would get bored and take a leisurely drive into the nearest town while I tinkered with a cabin-type errand or two. Once they reached the downhill on Ridge Road, they’d realize they were headed straight for the lake. At the speed Joseph was driving, he’d hit the lake without even anticipating it. Shame, really. Anticipation is a wonderful thing.

And now, this—this is what I had anticipated when I suggested the holiday. Peace and quiet. Some alone time. A beer in my hand and not a worry in the world. Belching and farting and scratching myself all day long, and no one to complain about it. Doesn’t get much better than that. You bet I can’t help grinning.