This island is always a quiet space for us, but more so this week. It feels a bit as though the whirlwind has gently dropped us here to let the dust settle, long enough for us to exhale slowly and rest a bit before whisking us off of our feet again.
I’ve been cognizant of the fact that the scenery is about to change in a big way for us. The sounds of cardinals and orioles in the morning will be replaced by other birds. The cattle lowing in the field next door will be replaced by other sounds and I’ll miss the cool breeze blowing off of the lake when it’s hot and wet and we’re feeling mired in the monsoon.
I’m going to miss asparagus fresh out of my Mom’s garden.
The children just left with their grandparents for an afternoon’s sail. Hannah, with her guitar strapped to her back and her camera over her shoulder. I have an hour and a half of quiet in which to work, breathe slowly, and drink in an island afternoon along with my iced tea.
It’s been a week of precious “last things:”
- Visits with friends
- Cheese plates (Hannah’s already missing the cheese and we haven’t even left yet!)
- Gallery hopping with Grammy
- Fishing expeditions with Gramps
- Scrabble games in the sunroom
- Lilac scented ferry rides (the whole island is in bloom and the scent drifts across the water to welcome each new boatload)
- Canal swims
It seems impossible that 48 hours from now we’ll be headed for Toronto on a one way trip to the far side of the globe. Our journey is on-going and so we’re used to one way tickets and a general lack of plans more than a few weeks out. This particular launch is feeling bigger than some of our others.
- Perhaps because we can’t get any further away than where we’re going.
- Perhaps because we’ll be totally illiterate… ALL of us.
- Perhaps because we know it’s going to take us quite a while to work our way back around to this little island.
- Perhaps because when we get back, we might be one kid lighter.
For these last few hours, I’m enjoying “home.”
Here are a few pictures for you to enjoy it with me: