I spent the morning in our crawl space going through box after box looking for old photographs of our kids when they were babies. Anyone beside me have packets full of unmarked photos from forgotten vacations, ancient Christmases, birthdays where you hardly recognize yourself?
He was there the day I was born. I wasn’t able to see him but I could feel his presents. Come to think of it, I actually don’t know of a time when I wasn’t aware of him even if only in the background of my life, occasionally blocking the tracks I was screaming down in a near head on collision. There was no escaping him, like hiding in a closet or anything. There are those you can’t really hide from, no matter what, and he has always been one of them.
We gathered around the first beach fire of the summer last night. Not a giant roaring bon-fire, but a fire big enough to keep us warm, yet small enough for safety. The stars and the moon were out. Moonlight reflected across the water from one end of the bay to the other. There was no movement in the air and the water was smooth as glass. Pure magic!
I’ve been gone a while. I think a little too long, actually. Stepping through the front door last night was like slipping back into my own skin. Oh my, how good it feels! Travel is wonderful for many reasons but sometimes I think the most important reason is the appreciation it gives me for home. Even the never ending layer of sand and dog hair was a welcome sight as I scanned the kitchen and great room wearing a huge smile and sighing contentedly. It’s so good to be back to all that smacks of me, him, us.