Good morning from a forest.
Yesterday, in the morning after a night of consistent, if not heavy, rain, I walked our full garbage bag down to toss it into the dumpster.
The trees here just a little north of Boston somehow remind me of a couple places we stayed in California on the front end of this trip, when things were still beginning and new. For a moment, I remembered some of the joy I’d felt then when I would stop and contemplate our situation.
You know the special kind of remembering where you’re almost there again? Remembering that comes with feelings and smells and sounds, not just the usual mental diary entries with pictures? It was that kind.
Walking back through the trees, everything wet from rain, I had a flash moment where I recalled, bodily, how free and amazing I felt then, knowing I had a year to explore creation with my family, anticipating.
And here I am, eight months later and a whole United States away from those first places. That inchoate joy now come of age and so full inside me it is simply me. Happy and together and knowing that holding onto this learning come the nearing after is imperative.
Sorry, I know I say the same things over and over. Hugs.