Last weekend, my husband, Bill, and I went to our upstate home. We left on Thursday night. It was a dark, moonless, starless night heralding winter. The gas shortage brought about by Hurricane Sandy was at its apex. On Long Island, lines were over 100 cars long at the gas stations that had fuel and the electricity to pump it. We drove about 50 miles north on the New York State Thruway and then stopped at a rest station where there was not one other car at the gas pump and filled up. It was easy and stress free and that about sums up our experiences upstate. When we arrive at our house, I can feel stress roll out of me. It is almost a physical feeling.
Our house is in between Athens and Coxsackie. Here, we are closer to water than on Long Island but the lake our house sits above and the Hudson River nearby are nothing like the wild ocean. Even the Hudson River with its currents that flow both ways is much tamer than stormy ocean surges. Here, there are vistas composed of fields and farmhouses and the Catskill Mountains are blue in the background.
We are safe here. It is beautiful here. We have a roomy, comfortable home and good friends here. And yet, it is not home to us. What is missing? Family is not that far away. Is it the ocean? The pull of the tides and the lure of a life moving fast in the great New York City area are hard to give up especially for Bill and me. We grew up in the City and sometimes find even our suburban life on Long Island a little slow, a little dull. And, of course, the ocean all around us is limitless.