The early morning sun partners with the great blue sky for the making of a beautiful day. It seems such a waste to spend it in the car, but “real life” beckons. The kids start school in 4 days. So much to do!
I steal some last moments on the cedar perfumed shore with only a little lump in my throat. How absolutely wonderfully blessed not to have to wait an entire year before coming up here again.
Bags, boxes, totes, duffels, suitcases, pillows, boats, trailers, jet skis, dogs and kids, moms, dads, aunts, uncles, cousins, a nana, a papa, and a nanny. We are all packed up, packed in and ready to roll out.
Heading south on the bridge is very anticlimactic. It is the tear-stained back page of a beautiful album of memories.
Almost 9 hours later we are back at home plate. The carpet feels strange beneath my feet and the cat has a million questions. The old synapses in my brain look to turn on a missing oxygen concentrator. Her squeals, her cries and the toy noises and songs have all fallen silent. I distract myself with laundry, steadying myself beneath the weight of familiar grief. The past two weeks had been a gracious intermission from the glaring reminders. We needed that. Thank you, Mom & Dad!
For God alone, O my soul, wait in silence, for my hope is from him. He only is my rock and my salvation, my fortress; I shall not be shaken.
(Psalm 62:5-6 ESV)