Everything Happens for a Reason

Today’s title is a quote from my son to me, on Day two of our vacation in Parry Sound. It is a quote that he has heard come from my mouth many times, and was throwing it back at me at a time when I really needed to hear it. It took me a while to understand what the reasons behind my continual mechanical misfortunes were, but I have convinced myself that it was to make me appreciate every drop of coffee and each sip of wine that I savoured on the deck of that cottage retreat.

Following is a chronological journey of our “everything happens for a reason” vacation.

Day One- A clear day for travelling, with light traffic. The truck pulls the seadoo easily, all lights are functioning properly. Washroom/eating stops have been preplanned to avoid having to back up the vehicle under any circumstances. I haven’t quite mastered that skill of turning the steering wheel in the opposite direction that you want the trailer to move. For some reason, the more I try to move the truck and trailer backwards in a straight line, the more jack-knifed the whole unit becomes. Once frustration sets in, I give up. We are once again faced with the helpless female syndrome; or my son and I unhook the trailer, I back up the truck, then we reattach the trailer. Hmmm, I think this should be another reason to sell my seadoo.
Four hours of perfect driving conditions later, followed by the maze of twists and turns and hills of the back roads of the Muskokas, and we arrive at Sunny Point Resort. All rules explained to us, key in hand, we were anxious to get to our cottage. The friendly owners told us not to worry about the seadoo as they would launch it for us the next day. One look at the steep, ungraded gravel launch ramp had me counting my blessings that I had thought to prearrange this request with the owners before I booked the cottage. Little did I know what other adventures that launch ramp would hold for us.
The cottage was everything we had hoped for, as we did the quick tour including the calling of bedrooms. How did my son end up with the master bedroom with the view of the lake, and I ended up in the only bedroom facing the driveway, and a touch light at the head of the bed that I repeatedly tapped in the middle of the night waking myself up to the question of “Who turned on my light?”
All was well for the night with kids happy, mom happy, truck parked with emergency brake securely holding it in place on yet another steep, gravel ridge of a laneway. I could sleep.

Day Two- Of course, my son doesn’t care that it’s only 17º C. He sees the sun, the dock, the smooth lake, and it’s all systems go for a day of seadooing. As I sit on my deck, wrapped up in my pj’s and sweater, fingers curled lovingly around my morning coffee cup, I plead with him to let me enjoy my moment. Some internal timer in his mind must know exactly when “my moment” has extended past its expiry.
I am given a bit of a reprieve from his constant badgering when we are told that we have to wait until the afternoon to put the seadoo in the water as the guest (yes, I said guest, not owner) who was going to be kind enough to launch it for us, was not available until after lunch. When the big event finally took place, I watched and prayed in silent horror as my ex-husband’s truck was backed down the slippery, gravelly slope by some man that I didn’t even know. Again, that nagging question in my head “Was that a bad thing to do?” Once at the water, the seadoo is unhooked, my son jumps on, starts it up, reverses out into the lake, and I’m happy to hear that motor running. Me and the girls over-exuberantly thank the kind stranger, we jump in the truck and drive back to the cottage. We park, once again making sure to use the emergency brake, make our way down to the dock only to hear my son yelling at me from out on the water. Did he really say he had no steering? I watch as my problem-solving son maneuvers his way to our dock by reversing the seadoo to make it turn in a circle, pointing it in the direction he wants to head, then taking it out of reverse, and continuing this whole process until he is safely docked. Not an easy task with no steering- I had heard him correctly. That rudder was not moving even a fraction of a millimeter when the handle bars were moved.
Small voice in my head “I am not going to cry, I am not going to cry. I hate this machine. I hate this machine.” I slowly walked up the 56 steps to the cottage, sat down on a deck chair, and proceeded to cry…again about a Seadoo!!!
Out of nowhere, my son produced the Otter Lake Marina flyer that the owners of the resort had thought to give us upon our arrival, just in case. After 17 attempts, and 17 busy signals, I decided that the wilderness drive in unfamiliar territory might be the cooling down time that I needed. Of course, my son did not trust that I could find my way to the marina on my own, and also get the help that we needed to repair the seadoo, so he jumped in with me. Hence, the comment from him, “Mom, everything happens for a reason.” Peering at him from over top of my sunglasses, I give him a look of disbelief, grip the steering wheel, and keep driving. With two failed GPS attempts at finding this place, we decided to do it the old-fashioned way and actually read the road signs. Forty minutes later, we pulled in to a little bit of paradise. The racing of my mind came to a halt as I watched families swimming in the small bay, saw the smiles, felt the calm of that piece of the lake. The warmth and friendliness that my son and I were greeted with made the whole trip to the marina so worthwhile- and I also informed them that their phone was off the hook. Arrangements were made for someone to boat over to our dock to have a look at the seadoo.
Less than an hour later, I once again watched another strange man back my ex-husband’s truck down the same slippery, gravelly slope. I also watched the empty cooler, the water skis, the tube, and the tow ropes all slide out of the truck box, past the point where the tail gate should have been raised, and down the same gravelly slope.
One more hour later, and I found myself speeding down a smooth-as-glass lake with my sunglasses suctioned onto my face and the wind in my cheeks creating what I’m sure must have looked like a cartoon caricature of me. I felt that rush, that high from the speed and that feeling of invincibility.
I should have bottled that feeling- to prepare myself for days 3-6.