I'm not sure how it started.
Most likely in the normal way.
Let's get the girl out of the house and let Mother Nature
babysit.
One success breeds desire for repeat results.
She was cautious at first, as she is wont to be.
Staying close and preferring sand to sea.
But we kept coming back, to the Golden Garden.
And now she she wants to be in the water.
At all times.
Even though the chill of Autumn has cooled the Puget Sound waters considerably.
We just keep coming back.
There's rarely a week of our lives that we don't drive due west 10 minutes.
In late winter, she hated the sand.
Now, she wants to immerse her soul in the grains.
And sand control has become part of our lives.
Finding it under covers and folded into socks.
And it has taught me a lesson I was sure I wasn't capable of,
to let go
to not be bothered.
At least not by sand.
It's our spot.
It's where we go
To feel our lives.
To force breath into all the anxious nooks and crannies,
To dig deep and deeper into the fine grain of minutia.
To slow down and look at rocks.
To see how light changes your view
And how shadows hug you tight.
And to occasionally see baby seals taking naps in the sunset.
And to eat Paseo's.
And to reset bad days
And to better good days.
But mainly, we go back
to be shocked back into our own skin by the unparalleled beauty of
right now, right here.
crm
We returned yesterday afternoon from a lovely anniversary trip to Whidbey Island. The culinary treats we enjoyed were spectacular and the resting was restorative. It was not as paralyzing to be apart from Bowie as I imagined it would be, though we both shared heart-pains when we spoke or thought of her. She had a wonderful time with Grandma and it looks like the feeling was mutual, as she explained how much she enjoyed Bowie while tearing up. As always, it's lovely to be back to one's own bed, but we both agreed that this was the best anniversary trip yet.
To see more photos, explanation of our doings, and details of the entire six-course meal by Matt Costello at the Inn at Langley, click on album above.
The first morning, the ubiquitous fog of the Puget Sound lifted to reveal an unreal view of the neighboring islands and calm waters. I rose before Joel, in rare fashion, and without disturbing his slumber, wrapped myself in a blanket and walked out onto our private porch. It was terribly cold, but I felt mystified by what I saw that I didn't care. I leaned over the railing and stared long and hard into the deep waters, and for the first time in many years, a very heavy serenity pervaded my being. It was as if all the shallow breathing my constant anxiety produces was replaced by a lung so vast that I almost never knew otherwise. I began to hear Joel stir, and while I anticipated the breakfast and hot shower to come, I desperately wanted to bottle this feeling to take with me through the next stage of our marriage. However, if there is one thing I have learned, it's that you cannot rely on the bliss of the past to carry you into future happiness. You must make new joy with each new moment.
Let it be known the world over that I am one happily married woman; that it is possible to be happy with one person, provided you both commit to growing personally as well as being honest with all the corners of your soul, dark and light alike. Either that, or we've been very lucky and there is no rhyme or reason to it. That, or God ordained it so. Whatever you've been given the faith to believe, may it rest well upon you.
mrs. morris
