Homeward Bound

The Belfast Boathouse, right at the bottom of John's street.
Sug and I like walking there. How dull it is to walk at home, in comparison. Photo by Kevin Kratka, http://www.kratkaphotography.com/.

I generally don't like leaving Maine or the Cape once I'm here. I've gotten so comfortable. I love exploring another place, getting hot cocoa in another place, taking naps in another place, walking Sug in another place.

Tomorrow I will wake to an alarm for the first time since Christmas Eve, when I went to the morning yoga class. We will pack our bags and head for the hills--the ones we'll slice through on our way back to Jersey.

It feels boring to go back home. When we drove up under the stars, our car was full of wrapped gifts and cookies to deliver. Now, the bows are off and the tins are empty. Plus, we will be driving in stark daylight.

Tomorrow will be a week since I've done laundry, opened bills, faced housework, or done any work work. I've taken my turn to do many dishes here [John doesn't have a dishwasher], but I didn't mind a bit.

The other reason I don't like leaving Maine is because our biannual trips are a big mile marker, and who knows what will happen before next time--whether we all will change or remain the same.

We've come twice a year for the 20 years we've been married--over Thanksgiving or Christmas, and for Fourth of July week [except some years, like when it was my mother-in-law's 80th birthday in October 2009, so we came three times]. By this summer, Figgy, and all of us, will be six months older [and in my case, maybe wearier]. How will my father be? Will I be trimmer? It will be swimsuit season in July! [I always hope I will have lost weight between these markers but it does not always happen.] How will our house be? What about our work, our health, our finances? How will our Figgy girl be? How about our nephews and nieces? They will be six months older, too. That's a big jump.

Sure, I will see Leah in NYC, since she lives there. I might see John, her Dad, if he comes to visit. I might catch any of the brothers--or our nieces or nephews--as they drive through the area. But it's not the same as being here, with them all popping in to John's house at different times, all of us sitting down to bowls of chili on a cold winter's night.

Sigh. The time has come. Must face the fact that I will brushing with John's tube of Tom's of Maine toothpaste for the last time until next time.

Signing off grateful for gracious hosts like John and Leah, Eileen and Mike.

Sweet dreams.