By Jen Slayden
A river runs through it. “It” refers to my life right now. A little over a year ago my husband quit his corporate job to pursue his long-time dream of working as a fishing guide. Together we weathered the skepticism of friends and family who thought that the decision was an irresponsible choice to make when the economy was in the toilet and people were practically begging for jobs. We didn’t need the lecture. We knew the risks. In the long run we decided those risks were easier to handle than living day to day in a job that was causing him so much stress that it risked his health. We also wanted our children to trust what we have always told them: “You can do anything you set your mind to if you believe in yourself and work hard.”
That said, the last year hasn’t been easy. The kids were used to our schedule. The river was flowing smoothly. Dad went to work. Dad came home. Dad was around to take them fishing or rafting or skiing on the weekends, depending on the season.
The winter was tough. Our river grew murky. Dad was now ever present but not very accessible.
He was busy remodeling our little studio house called the Trout Bungalow. His only dough was the baking of sourdough bread he so fondly made. He redefined his role and his life. His dreams of guiding and fishing were on hold until the season came around and the salmon flies started their hatch.
In the spring Mark signed up as a guide under a local outfitter. He booked his first clients. The prospects of having a full schedule for the summer started dwindling as days past. Reality set in, and it was scary. Then, as fate would have it, he was recommended to a large ranch that was looking for more guides for the summer. With limited options and income, he hesitantly agreed to give it a go, knowing that what mattered was the importance of getting the time and experience on the river. Another channel- another diversion.
We were all nervous. What would it mean for us? We quickly found out. The lazy days of summer hanging out together as a family on his days off did not transpire. Mark worked almost every day, and in addition started guiding back-country trips in the Bob Marshall wilderness. What a dream come true for him!
A view from Marks new bedroom in the Bob Marshall Wilderness
For myself and the kids, that cheesy cliché of “absence makes the heart grow fonder” has certainly rung true. We have seen him two days in the last two weeks, and he is again gone for another week. There is no cell coverage, so as he navigates clients down the river, I navigate parenting on my own.
The kids miss him. So do I. When he was home for a day last week for a day Grace jumped into his arms and held him tight, almost taking him down in the process. She has grown taller than me this summer. I have become keenly aware of the role that Mark plays in my children’s lives. I cannot give her and the boys the same type of attention dad brings to their lives. I don’t sing in the shower. I don’t rough house the same way. I am not as agreeable, or calm in the whitewater of tweenhood. I start to regress: “You started it! Knock it off! I sometimes feel myself turning into one of those moms. I have to remember to breathe. Take breaks. Go for a run while chanting the mantra “You can do it!”
Navigating new channels in our life has been a challenge. I have had my frustrating moments, but mostly I am humbled. My kids have a remarkable ability to forgive (water under the bridge) and go with the flow. They adore their dad. They are proud of him. Through their eyes I now remember some of those qualities that reeled me in all those years ago to this man I married. After all these years, I hate to admit I have sometimes been complacent in reminding Mark that I believe in him too, admire his courage, and am riding in the same raft as him.
Rivers have debris occasionally. There is high water, and low water. There are always obstacles to navigate around and hazards to avoid. But the river draws me in….always. There is a remarkable beauty to the water and mystery to the flow.
Leonardo daVinci quoted: “In rivers, the water that you touch is the last of what has passed and the first of that which comes; so with present time.”
I have been astutely aware this summer how fortunate I am. I cannot change the direction that the river flows, but I can grab the oars and do my best to navigate the waters and enjoy the scenery of the present moment.
Such is marriage……and parenthood.
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This is a beautiful tribute to the changing tides of long relationships. Thank you!
This is absolutely beautiful. There is such a different dynamic with tweens. We find too that there are times when one of us responds more positively than the other. What a tremendous testament to your marriage. I want to congratulate you both on surviving a year of unknowns, believing in yourselves and each other and coming out on top!!
ahh,
Cece and I are enjoying swimming in Flathead Lake…… the temp is perfect and there are smiles all around! Let’s hear it for WATER!
Nothing quite like the sound of the cello over the water, either….
My son Cory will probably want to chat with Mark when he gets back from his 3rd year guiding in Alaska (I know I will see him come hunting season….). I think they would have fun trading stories.
Keep writing!
Beth
Jen, That’s a great message. You really have a great talent for expressing yourself in words. Since it didn’t come from me, it must have been from Mom and/or your older siblings, which is all of them. Enjoy the season. It’s good to hear that Mark is doing well; hopefully we will fish together before the rivers freeze over this year,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,Dad
Jen, thanks for supporting me and giving me the opportunity to live my dreams. How do you feel about being the wife of a volunteer ski patroller? For just one winter…..PLEEEEEASE!
Ha I love Mark’s comment.
What a beautiful piece, Jen. I love the water analogy and, while I’m on a different river than you, I can relate!