Traveling Again

It’s time to leave another winter behind. This year mine was spent house-sitting a cozy two-hundred-year-old farm house where I stayed to keep the mice away and the pipes from freezing in the cold Maine winter. Watching the snow fall, the ice flow out on the Kennebec River below, and finally the hundreds of daffodils bloom on the hillside below, sometimes I was able to sit still and find some time to write.

Most of the time, though, I was teaching classes, making new friends at pickleball, and hanging out with my eldest son who was my housemate from Christmas to Easter. I loved having a place I could feel settled and a place to host family and friends for dinner parties and long visits.

I also got to get away to spend a long weekend in North Carolina with my Tuesday class where we worked together on finishing our collection of mini-memoirs to be published in the fall. (I will send out an announcement for our debut reading when I have it.)

The owner of the farmhouse arrives tonight, so I am on my way out this afternoon. Closets (all but one) and drawers are emptied and everything I’ll need (or want) for the next six weeks — spring sweaters, summer dresses, pickleball paddle, hiking boots, sandals and bathing suits– ready to be packed into the car.

Transitions tend to make me cranky, so this past week was rocky, especially when my son moved out to begin his own adventure (apartment in Portland, a new job, and school). Of course I was happy for him, but a little sad for me.

Trying to get to the bottom of my melancholy, I question this funny life I have with no permanent home. Why don’t I want to settle down? Why am I content to come and go, a house-sitter whose schedule is subject to other’s schedules? I didn’t find any answers this week, but I decided not to worry about it. It’s working for now, I tell myself, and I’ll feel better soon. And today, the day I finally go, I do feel better. It feels good to know all that’s left to focus on this morning is a shorter list of tasks. Finally, as I load the car, water the plants, and scrub the kitchen sink, I feel excited about what’s ahead, knowing I’ll be back soon enough.

First stop will be Portland to visit friends and see Cody’s new apartment. After that, I’ll drive down the New England coast, visiting more friends with a stop in New York City to see Tahn on my way to Long Island. There, longtime friend Kecia Ford and I will host Memoir 101: A Women’s Writing Weekend in the Hamptons, where I will have the privilege of working with a small group of women on the powerful work of writing to heal, work I feel lucky to be able to do. It is an honor and a joy to accompany people on their creative journeys, at whatever stage they may be. Finally, I’ll head back to Portland to catch a flight to Denver to visit family there, and then in June, spend a few weeks in mid-coast Maine with family.  

With the magic of online classes, I can continue teaching writing and seeing clients throughout my travels. When I’m settled again for the summer, between hiking, camping, beach visits and early morning lake swims, I will decide when the next writing class starts and keep chipping away at the next memoir.

Lucky me.