We sold our camp in Maine. Here’s something I wrote on one of my last trips up there. The deal was done last week. There’s no going back.

December 14th, 2007

I arrived at a bit before 11:00 on a friday night. There’s 8 inches of new snow on the ground, it’s clear, and 25 degrees. The snowplow had come, so I only had to shovel the walk into the steps. Everything here is as it should be. It’s quiet and crisp. As I was shoveling the walk in, the outside light when off and it was very dark. I could barely see anything even after my eyes adjusted. It’s hard to think about why I’m here. We got an offer on the camp that we’ve had to accept, so I’m up here to make sure there are no surprises for house inspectors and the like.

I bought the camp in 1997, when I inhabited a completely different world. I had been married for 16 years, my daughter Matilda was 18 months old, and none of my other kids were born yet. My job had paid well enough to be able to afford this place without any strain at all. In the ten years since then, I’ve gotten divorced and remarried, had three more kids, and moved between 6 residences. I’ve been a paper millionaire in an internet start-up, unemployed for two years, and held 7 different full-time jobs.

The one constant in those ten years has been this camp. Matti is now 11, and has been coming here since she was 1. The other kids have visited here their whole lives. Many times over the last ten years I have spent hours looking across the lake, floating on a kayak, watching a campfire, or sailing on a warm summer day. What will happen to me when this refuge is gone?

In the divorce that came in 2000, the only way to split assets was to give my now ex-wife the house, and I kept the camp. At the time, I knew the only way I would ever have a decent place to live was to sell the camp and buy a residence. In a way, it’s amazing that I held on to the camp this long; my wife deserves a lot of credit for this.

After being more or less in a transient household for the last eight years, we have finally found a home; a small ranch in a nice neighborhood, with tall oak trees in the back yard, some space, and some fresh air, which a nice little downtown area a short walk away. It’s nearly ideal. We’ve over-extended ourselves to buy it, so the camp has to go. I’m hopeful that our new home will become the sort of refuge this camp has been. Selling the camp will also open up the opportunity for new vacations and adventures.

In part, this camp has served to discipline my off-the-clock time. Up here, I can not check e-mail, watch TV, or use computers. I my options are to play with kids, sit by the fire, read a book, or just watch the waves on the water. Without it, I will need to structure my time at home a little more carefully, and perhaps set up a refuge of a sort there – a small quiet space with no distractions for letting the noise in my head quiet down for a while.

Time to put away this computer, sit by the fire one more time, and watch the flames.