After they go…

Like a narrow island in the middle of a big lake, or one of a series of small islands say off the coast of Maine, or better yet, like one of those barges floating with bags and bags of trash, unable to moor (Do I remember that correctly?), Casey & I, until the weekend, when one, or both boys come home, say for Casey’s birthday, or the anniversary of my mother’s passing or the Feast Day of Mary~Why Hello September 8th~and then we’re adrift again; but it’s also a bit like arriving at camp for the first time, which is what I hear myself say to a friend—all this space to get to know and figure out and find yourself in, and sure you’re a bit homesick, but the simplicity of it is also kind of exciting, to unpack and make a place that’s all yours.


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