An uncle came to stay with me once, I’m not even going to try to think of how long ago that was. He was an academic all his life, a college guidance department head, which is probably why he phrased it as wanting to see my ‘nest’. That that thought came to mind seems like a natural progression during this nesting season here in Florida, when birds are on my mind a lot of the time. And somehow that phrase further brought to mind something my closest friend’s husband said to me once after visiting with them. While I had always felt the closeness between this friend and myself, communication was not so easy in the days when we both had little kids, businesses to run, and lived 3000 miles apart. So I invited myself to visit them after many years, and when he drove me to the airport to leave he said that we were ‘two peas in a pod’, and that it was a crying shame that we hadn’t been able to be part of each other’s daily lives all along. On my way to see them on that visit I had said to myself that knowing myself I ought to be nervous, after all I was going to see people that I honestly didn’t know, but I wasn’t at all worried. And from that first moment that I stepped back into my friend’s life, and home, I felt completely at ease. More than that though, I felt like myself. My true self, the ‘real’ me. Silly, huh? Who’s life was I leading all those years, living all over the country and raising my kids with only occasional visits to the place I continued to think of as home? Those were happy years that I treasure, but there was a little part of me that felt alone. No, apart. Disconnected. But not any more, not since I’ve made connections to the past, connections that are mine alone. Little children that we once were, and who have lived such different lives, are now knowing and cherishing each other in this last part of life. How we got here hardly matters, it’s just so wonderful to be here.
I loved seeing the extra footprints in the sand, still do.
My daughter and I were teary-eyed when we visited together almost 5 years ago. Emotions were still raw that day. It wasn’t as emotional yesterday. I was glad to be there, glad to see the sky trying to cooperate, just glad in general.
I have a lot of time to think these days. Here in the camper with the sounds of the birds outside, even at 4 AM. And something, pine cones maybe, falling on the roof with a surprising thunk. And my coffee, brewed outside on the little shelf which has a convenient plug right next to it. Features of this pop up that I’m just now noticing.
