I’ve returned to Whidbey Island for a few days of writing and community with some dear women whose company both calms and motivates me. They are writers and artists – each of them – and they have the most gentle spirits.
It’s just after 7:00 a.m. here. Those of us who are awake have claimed little nooks for ourselves with our laptops or our books. A few of us still sleep. I can hear coffee brewing as I settle into this brown leather couch with a view of the backyard – the fire pit that we gathered around last night, the yellow and orange flowers maintained around the edge of the back porch, and Puget Sound. It’s just stunning.
Between the views and the cooler temperatures, I’m tempted to make an offer on the house we are renting. It’s for sale. Surely that’s a sign that I – or one of us – should live here, isn’t it?
We scheduled this gathering months ago, long before I knew Dave would have just moved to Texas. In the days leading up to this trip, there was a part of me that didn’t want to get on a plane. I didn’t want to leave him, but I knew that I’d enjoy every minute of my time with these women once I arrived. It just took nudging myself to get out the door. Now that I’m here, my mind is flowing a bit more freely.
I don’t sit and watch birds feed at home. I don’t notice chirping or the creaking of my old house. I’m too busy and moving moving moving towards something. But here, I sit, I listen, and I just am.
In the midst of the house full of boxes and the endless to do lists associated with planning a wedding, this weekend is a reminder to pause. I can run, write or read a book. I can stay on this couch or go for a walk or run. I can nest at the house or visit a nearby labyrinth or nature preserve. I can nap if I want to. Other than a 6pm dinner gathering with my friends, I have no plans. It’s just lovely.