Original posting date was August 8, 2006
Peaceful. It’s so nice to be back, on this island; this place is working it’s magic on me, again, saving my sanity and my life. Nothing pressing on me, nothing that has to be done, beyond the next nap, or book, or time to sit on the beach. I can hear the waves on the shore, feel the breeze across me as I lie on the porch. If I lift my eyes, I’m looking through trees to blue water; far across, the mainland shore is fuzzy and indistinct, but this time from distance.
A wonderful time to reflect. The kids are here, Lynn is here, and I sleep. All night long last night, blessed sleep and not waking every hour or two, not wandering through dark mazes. I can dream, and drift, and listen to the gulls and the chipmunks. Even the dogs conspire to make me smile, chuckle at their goofiness.
Warm soft air, clean and fresh, water and pine smell, and trees that are ancient. Is it any wonder that we call this area “God’s Country?” Even the sand clinging to bare feet, the noise of the bugs rasping, and moths banging on the screens, trying desperately to get to the lights are a part of it.
When I arrived, Sunday, stepping onto the dock was like leaving a weight behind. I could feel it lifting, sloughing off my shoulders, just like dropping a heavy pack after hiking. The lightness was palpable, and I’m embracing it.
There has been only one moment of darkness, when I ask myself why we aren’t here all the time, why did we leave? I know all the reasons, the rational cold-blooded thinking reasonableness of moving, and the things that we can do only because of that move; yet, I wish it was different.
Then, as we talk about plans for the fall, school and university, and tuition and plans and dreams, I remember that that is why… and I’m reminded, again, that it is good.
And I smile, and hug them all, grateful that I can. Grateful that I can come home again, even for a while.