I love it here -- on the lake. It's peaceful and calm and the land around my parent's home is pretty untouched. Today on the pontoon we saw geese, loon, a deer and her fawn, a beaver, and plenty of fish that refused to be caught.
People wave when you drive by them on the road. At first I thought my father knew everyone, but waving is a way of acknowledging one another. It's sweet. It reminds you that you aren't alone out here and that even you, a stranger, is worthy of a "hello."
People move without purpose. There is no rush. Maybe it's just the summer, but even people on their bikes and people out for a walk seem to be in their own little world and happy at whatever pace they happen to be locked into.
I haven't done a lick of writing. Of course, I didn't think I would for the first few weeks -- too much to look at. Too much to tuck away into my memory banks for times when I forget to breathe, or when I'm stuck in traffic in southern California, inhaling the smog and stress.
I'm trying not to think about the day after two tomorrows.
That's all I have to say about that.
Every minute I'm not inhaling every minute I get with her now seems like a waste of time.
That's really all I have to say about that.
Tomorrow is the fourth. We'll bbq of course, maybe take a ride out on the lake again, or maybe we'll sit on the dock and watch the fish jump. All of this will have to wait till after breakfast. I promised the family that I would make pancakes tomorrow. I figure I should cook at least one breakfast and pancakes reminds you of good times and home and comfort. All good things.
The syrup, flour, and bacon will momentarily chase the blues away.
That's all I have to say about that. :)
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