Looking Up

I've been away from the blog for a few days, missing your posts, your writing and photos, but also needing to scramble before we move back to the mainland and before the madness of Christmas.  We'll be visiting family then heading to a conference in Philadelphia between Christmas and New Years.  After my last post I realized I'd forgotten that not everybody who visits here knew me before I lived on the island, so I think I made it sound like I am suddenly homeless.  I'm not off on a new adventure to another faraway place, just heading back to my real home in an old textile mill in Massachusetts.  We have been taking a semester off from teaching to focus on some of our writing projects, and now we've got work and our lives there to return to after the holidays.  

Still, even though I'm done with extended journeys and adventures for a bit, life is taking some big turns for me.  I am teetering, teetering, trying to be brave as I stand on the cliff's edge of changes.  Think I'll look up instead of down.  I'm thinking of Relyn tonight and how she writes the most beautiful lists.  I've been compiling a mental list over the past several days of what I've loved and what I'll miss about this island.  Hope I can share it with you very soon.  It just seems right to take stock as we head toward the solstice and the days feel like flashes of light in the dark.

My cats are curled up next to me, the big one and the little one; my husband is asleep on the sofa.  I've got the Christmas lights plugged in and a candle lit.  The house still smells like the drop biscuits we had with supper.  Over on the dining table are piles of paper, ribbons, boxes and bags.  Christmas will come, no matter how behind I am on shopping, crafting, and baking.  Bills will get paid when they get paid.  Life will happen, no matter how much I prepare.  I have always been a worrier.  How about you?  Do you have worries tonight?  Come on over (it's only a fifteen-minute ferry ride).  I'll brew us a pot of chamomile tea, and we can sit by the fire.  There are still plenty of biscuits, and I've got one jar left of homemade jam.  The Scrabble board's waiting.  Worries?  What worries.