Back on the other side.
It’s a sunny Sunday morning and I’m sitting at my familiar Panera table that I dubbed my ‘office’ last winter. I’ve got a huge cup of coffee–actually I’m on my second refill–and I’m estimating it would take about 20 Italian caffes to fill this cup. That’s just a long explanation that it’s nice to be home.
Getting out of Rome was appropriately difficult, complete with taxi nightmare, torrential downpour and screaming babies on our flight home. Strangely, we left the stormy Eternal City and arrived to sunshine and blue skies in the Emerald City. It hasn’t rained since we’ve been home and in the process I’ve fallen in love with the Pacific Northwest like it was brand new to me. And it kind of does feel brand new. Or at least my heart does. No angst, no stress, no dread, just a hope for the new season that was forced upon us. Faith, hope and love.
We hiked Staircase. We picnicked by rivers. We walked the high meadows on Mt. Rainier. We dug for clams on the beach. We had sunset dinners by the water with friends. We squealed at seals from the boat. We spent afternoons at the Columbia winery talking with friends who feel like family. We visited with 93 yr old Gramma Evelyn. We walked the mossy path behind the house in morning air. We ate grapes and tomatoes from the garden, and smoked salmon fresh from the catch. We drank coffee in warm, carpeted living rooms with family, and eat bacon and eggs again.
Our hearts are full.