I return home--to beautiful, temperate, mountain-cradled Asheville--after seven blissful days of reunion, sea beauty, novel-reading to surf sound. Oh, friends. I remember best why I'm alive, why I'm so very glad to be alive, when there are these hours of beauty and love and reflection and pure, delicious nowness. You know?
I return so full of peace and love, so grateful to this beautiful, ferocious, delicate, complex, overwhelming earth. And for family. For laughter and bread and putt putt and hammocks--and for this man, my partner in all of it, to whom I have been married for eighteen years today.
I return home with this girl--the wonder it's still possible to inspire in her, her capacity for joy, her fierce intellect and her humor and her sweet face.
There are so very many treasures--and when we see them, there is no pain that can diminish them or us. There is no looming end that can matter. When I am really alive, I fear nothing.
And all it takes is seven peaceful days, seven days without worry, bills, the internet, phones, work, to be reminded of how deeply I want to live, how present I want to be? I return astonished.
I cling to this feeling, knowing it will fade--knowing it will have to be replenished.
I will make vacation--retreat, celebration, full-force here-ness--a central part of my life, as much as possible.
I return home knowing that this game (life) can't be won. It can only be enjoyed.