A view from land

It has been a few weeks already. I want to hold on to all my memories tight, but the force of time and the need to move forward weaken my ability to grasp them. Places, people, sights, it all begins to fade into one flat vision. It’s “just something we did”. I know pretty soon people won’t ask much, I will have to bite my tongue not to brag about how brave, how lucky, and how strong we were. I will have to wait for opportunities to bring some remembrances to life and heavens forbid, I may even have to make the storms bigger and multiply the amount and sizes of the sharks we saw

Re-immersion into the “traditional” “old” “natural” “typical” “common” or however we call this lifestyle is like jumping into a running treadmill, no one stops it for us, we just have to jump in and keep running, no time to look back, no time to look down we can only hope it will slow down or we will get more in shape. There was a house to put back together, there were utilities to set up and there were festivities to plan; Samantha’s Birthday and Christmas.

It was nice to be back for the holidays, but I was not prepared for the chaos at the stores, physically and emotionally was a painful experience; crowded, messy, long lines, simply overwhelming. On the other hand, how nice it was to be “home” that morning after Christmas; the cold day, the tree lights twinkling to the music, the rug on the floor, the girls in their cozy robes, the smell of cinnamon rolls in the oven and the freshly grounded coffee brewing. It was a traditional Christmas setting, no adjustments were necessary, no swimming or sliding down the mast for Santa.