Feeling a bit under the weather, so I spend a quiet day at home, catching up on my blog after 2 weeks off the grid, taking care of small online-soluble nuisances that have piled up in my absence. It’s nice to have the freedom to curl up in a metaphorical ball and let the daily chores beyond my door slide by.
Today P sells his moving-out-of house. There is no counting-your-chickens in matters like this, no tempting fate. We drive down for one last look around and then I wait somehow nervously for his call that all has gone as scheduled at the closing. In the evening his boys and their girls come over for an impromptu celebration. Now it’s onward for him, after tying up loose ends, to the fixing up of his moving-into house. I remember the feeling of this day from 3 years ago, a whiff of nostalgia, but mostly relief that the future is finally foreseeable.
I’m a cactus to his feelings
he’s a hammer to my balance
it makes for a tentative dance
love finds its feet but not its wings
not yet the comfort that trust brings
I hang suspended in my fall
marshaling truths I still recall
he lashes out turns inward why
is it so hard to simply fly
to breathe the wonder of it all
And too soon it is time to leave. Home calls, and obligations, as July has swept halfway past while we have been “down east,” off the grid, far from the instant connectivity that has come to mark our daily lives. As J brings the boat around to pick us up, M & C wait on the shore, a timeless photo of land and sea and those who live with that connection. I will miss the rustle of aspen leaves, the splash of waves, the immediacy of nature, but this is not my world. We leave early and drive straight through arriving late, hoping we are ready for what awaits us.