Wednesday, July 6, 2016


Hello there, friend,

It feels so long since I've written those words, and yet they've run through my mind many times since we last wrote. The phrase "hello there, friend" has become part of my internal monologue, a way for me to process and examine what's going on in my life. I think that's good. It helps me pay attention and stay the course. It gives me safe harbor.

I have missed you and our correspondence, though I know your trip was amazing and exotic and, at the heart of it all, we both needed a break. I didn't spend mine as wisely as I would have liked. I played a lot of catch up -- endless amounts of catch up, it seems -- in an effort to get ahead so I could rest. But what I really needed was to just stop. Why couldn't I see that? I don't know.

So this weekend, we packed our new car to the gills with water shoes and swimsuits and watermelon and sunscreen. We were away three gloriously long days at the lake. We swam and hiked. I finally got up on water skis (for about ten seconds, but still). The cousins set off fireworks and I marveled at my children marveling at the display. I am exhausted and grateful and ready for real life again.