full

The state of my suitcase.

Itineraries, schedules, airplane fuel tanks (we hope).

The sky and house with hints of smokish, fuscia-tinted air.

Westley’s stomach, as always. He snits about, skittish (how do animals always know?). Here’s to hoping he and the dog eat their own food.

My heart:
loved ones near and far face physical and emotional challenges;
joy nestles inside, because our dear daughter, who planned to go far away for at least a year, has decided now to stay in our city a while longer (yippee);
a contented sigh follows the receiving and reading of my copy of relief. Although my “Memorial Day” essay follows the other main journal entries, I feel privileged to have it round off a lot of good writing;
the final word in my essay sums up a drive, a goal within, amid excitement, travel, tragedy, and growth.

I’m excited to leave, but I look forward to returning. Home.