Tonight we’ll cross the Channel, setting foot in the UK bright and early Saturday morning. The rituals of the ferry are ranked high in my list of life’s joys – the quayside queue, the oft-imagined supper, the little cabin, and the ‘sailing the seven seas’ (!) imagination of my busy-port watching boyhood. Oh, but the leaving! Leaving the places we love is always so sad. My olfactory memory-mapping goes into overdrive.
Tomorrow, closing my eyes, I will know again in my nostrils this local salted butter, and the slight mustiness of the basement, and apple juice, and oaks and pines, and the planked floor of this bright bedroom, and the bubbling mud of the riverbed, and the warm breakfast baguette, with melon and strawberries and honey and strong coffee, and the armoire. I’ll tell myself convincingly ‘no leavings, no arrivals.’ And ache a bit.
wind in my wheels 🌱 
It seems like it’s been a wonderful trip, Simon, filled with memories that you can feast on for months. 🙂 I just heard Norman Lear interviewed this morning–he’s 93 years young and said that his two favorite words/guiding principles are ‘over’ and ‘next’ and that he rests in the hammock that hangs in between these two words: “in the moment.” Seems to have served him well for 93 years. May you linger ‘in the moment’ as well… Travel safely! Hugs, L
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A hammock between two words. Perfect, Lori. Thanks so much. I shall add an l and pinch the metaphor for ‘a hammock between two worlds’ … Great to be in touch xx
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My tummy is rumbling !
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Travel safely, recall the sensibilities that memory evokes,whenever you choose, and welcome home xx
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Thank you. Thank you. And love and peace for you xx
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