Uninterrupted By Jennifer Grace


I am.  

One week.

In a house on a lake.

My 16-year-old son away at a remote island in Fiji for dive camp, no phone, no communication possible.

Best friend is at a silent retreat. 10 days. Can’t call her either.

Boyfriend unexpectedly books a film job and leaves me for the week.

Alone I am.

The thrill of it and the fear of it…. collide.

I can write! No interruptions!

But…what if a bear kills me?

What if a serial killer breaks in at 4 am?

No one will know I’m dead for days.

Breathe Jen, breathe.

Day #1: Consists of a mindful walk/run….a deer crosses my path…morning is sweet.

Later, I take care of 3 hours worth of “To Do’s” that have been moved from one

“To Do” list to the next over the last 2 months.

Life has been busy.  

I feel beyond accomplished, I even clear out my desktop and take my 14,35 unread emails down to 738.  Progress.

Then an afternoon nap.

Because I can.

Up at 4:00pm back in the kitchen to fix a yummy snack.

I begin to talk to myself.


Like a crazy woman.

So used to having others, hundreds of others, around.  Not sure what to do with all this quiet. This solitude.

So I switch to singing…Christmas Carols.

Yes…I am fully aware that it is July.

From the top of my lungs, I bellow, “Well the weather outside is frightful, and the la la la is so delightful, as long as you la la something knows, let it snow, let it snow, let it snow.”

I don’t know all the words, and I don’t care.

I feel like Tom Hanks in Cast Away.

5:00 pm arrives, thank god.

I pour myself a healthy glass of chardonnay and decide it’s time for a leisurely ride around the lake in the old, but sturdy, blue kayak.

Out on the clear glass, I glide and think, “This is exciting!”

Exciting to be alone, to have space to create, to ponder, to let nature give me new tag lines, new titles of workshops, and new chapters in books yet to be written.

The creativity begins to flood in like some cosmic download.  

I feel smart when the ideas start to flow, I have been wise enough to have brought my journal into the kayak to capture it all.

Furiously I write; then suddenly look up.

Out of nowhere, fear swims up next to me as I realize I am the only soul out on the entire lake.

What if there is a lockless monster in this lake that rises up and swallows me whole?

Can trees hear you when you scream?

Breathe Jen, breathe.

When I arrive back to the weathered lopsided dock, I feel proud of my less than graceful dismount off of the kayak and into the arms of the tall grass.

I throw one shoe. Two shoes. Out onto the grass.  I throw the empty glass of chardonnay and my journal that holds new ideas and endless possibilities and drag the kayak with all my might out of the water.

“Good Girl Jenny!  You did it!”  I say to out loud to myself like I’m my own encouraging mother.

I am still alive. I made it.

Next, I scan the yard for Black Bears.

The owner of the home who I rented it from has warned me…”The Black Bears even come out in the day light.”  She says when I go to pick up the keys.

Fan-fucking-tastic. That was definitely not in the brochure.

Coast clear… I make my way into the sweet cozy home, which I will call my own for the next 3 weeks.

I grab my laptop, refill my Chardonnay, and begin to write.

I am.



with love,



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  • 17 Jul, 2017
  • Jennifer Grace

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