New Year's Day, 2007
According to the calendar, it is New Year's Day.
One thing I've learned recently: every day is NYD.
The Christmas of New Reality has passed. After some minimal decorating (angels and Polish stars in the Benjamina ficus and bears, snowpeople, a more few angels, and the stained glass creche in the the usual other places) and even more minimal baking (all but the crumbs gone and not too much on me), we packed out to the Island for four sleeps in a lovely cottage in the village where I spent my childhood.
Things have changed. There is no more logging running one-log loads out. The roads are all paved. Places are closer together. And smaller. My school has completely disappeared and the site so grown over I couldn't pick it out. But some things haven't changed...
It rained a lot - that's what it does out there - but we walked beaches anyway and watched satellite tv (bad idea for me who gets nightmares from scary cartoons let alone CSI) and ate amazingly. And when, on the last night, awakened in panic (see previous sentence), I opened the window to the skyful of stars and the susurration of the west coast water that run in my soul, I remembered that despite the emptiness, we were all
still breathing.
Happy New Year
One thing I've learned recently: every day is NYD.
The Christmas of New Reality has passed. After some minimal decorating (angels and Polish stars in the Benjamina ficus and bears, snowpeople, a more few angels, and the stained glass creche in the the usual other places) and even more minimal baking (all but the crumbs gone and not too much on me), we packed out to the Island for four sleeps in a lovely cottage in the village where I spent my childhood.
Things have changed. There is no more logging running one-log loads out. The roads are all paved. Places are closer together. And smaller. My school has completely disappeared and the site so grown over I couldn't pick it out. But some things haven't changed...
It rained a lot - that's what it does out there - but we walked beaches anyway and watched satellite tv (bad idea for me who gets nightmares from scary cartoons let alone CSI) and ate amazingly. And when, on the last night, awakened in panic (see previous sentence), I opened the window to the skyful of stars and the susurration of the west coast water that run in my soul, I remembered that despite the emptiness, we were all
still breathing.
Happy New Year
posted by Another Joan at 11:17 p.m.
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