I'm Here

I have been on a blog break.  I expected my postings to be sporadic and heavily picture laden while we were on vacation, but then the condo we were staying in did not have the wifi promised and, frankly, I felt the pull to the beautiful beach in lieu of the www.  Nonetheless, I came back itching to write, geared up to share stories and jonesing to post memories captured, but was soon reminded that our Internet went kaput the day before we left.  Our connection was restored last night.  I'm thankful to be back on the grid.  I'm also grateful for the time I had to be away.  I learned some quality things in quieting my inner historian, or rather I relearned them.  Sometimes the strong urge to tell my story turns the very event that inspired me into the past before its time.  I catch myself crafting the moments before they have played out.  It makes me wonder how much my expectations and excitement mold and manipulate my tellings.  I know there are times I get ahead of myself.  It makes me think of the book I cannot wait to finish.  Do I scan chapters or skip pages?  No,  I hang on every single word.  I stop to smile or cry or dog ear a page.  I return and reread a poignant passage.  I savor every single thought and later I jot down those aha quotes.  I give the story grace.  I let it emerge and unfold on its own. I need to remember to give them all..moments, stories...their due.  After all, it is in the stillness at the end of the day, that other unexpected stories shine through.  With quiet reflection, different voices beg to be heard.  When I sit back and soak it all in, I see layers upon layers of perspective and many possible points of view.  It became clear that I can never be all too sure what treasures I will find.

I spent time walking the soft sandy beaches where the water meets the shore everyday until they started to feel like familiar old friends.  Yet each and every day I saw something new.  One morning it was a pod of dolphins at play, and another it was a pair of blue crabs scurrying across the sand. And the shells... amazingly I never saw two exactly alike. The same shining sun was swallowed by the sea every evening, but each sunset was blessed with its own set of captivating characteristics. 

This week I felt awed by simply being present.  I was affirmed by bearing witness.  I took hundreds of pictures with three different cameras, I read half a book (one and a half less than expected), I journaled in a fluid stream of conscious style less than a page each day, I slept only as much as necessary, and rose early every morning to greet each day.  I didn't want to miss a single fleeting moment.  I was acutely aware how transient is time.  Every day is evanescent the world seemed to say on the wind, a wing or on a wave.

And it's so true.  Vacation is over.  Seven days and six states later, we are home sweet home.  It is already October 4th, and I already want to hit pause so compelling is my adoration for this tenth month.  Now I'm wowed by the brilliant leaves in beautiful colors of ochre, persimmon and citrine instead of the cerulean, violet and claret gradations of the sea.  Now I'm smelling cloves and ginger instead of salty sea spray.  Soon it will be pine and peppermint.  So it goes as it must, but not without notice.