Pause

I must down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,
And all I ask is a tall ship and a star to steer her by,
And the wheel's kick and the wind's song and the white sail's shaking,
And a grey mist on the sea's face, and a grey dawn breaking.

I must down to the seas again, for the call of the running tide
Is a wild call and a clear call that may not be denied;
And all I ask is a windy day with the white clouds flying,
And the flung spray and the blown spume, and the sea-gulls crying.

I must down to the seas again, to the vagrant gyspy life,
To the gull's way and the whale's way where the wind's like a whetted knife;
And all I ask is a merry yarn from a laughing fellow-rover
And a quiet sleep and a sweet dream when the long trick's over.

~"Sea-Fever" ~ John Masefield :: As taken from The Waldorf Book of Poetry

The children saw the ocean for the first time on Sunday.  It was both new and old to me, as I hadn't been in such a very long time.  We camped right in front of the water at a place that goes back to my mother's childhood.  It was a trip that left me feeling torn--I was anxious to keep on with things here.  I knew getting away was needed, like the final step of a long walk or an intersection between trails.  I'll call it a pause, then, a chance to spend some time in daydream and reflection before getting back to work.

I'm now a "long walks on the beach" person, and I took one at the end of nearly every day.  I went under the guise of photographing my dad's kites in action.  The waves gave a wonderful backdrop to my own thoughts and small revelations.  I think people see my situation as a very sad one, but it isn't.  It's glaringly, staggeringly hope-filled.  I have to stop myself from running wildly into the future.

Coming back to the mountains, back to feeling "hemmed in" again, was emotional.  Willow teased me a little, but I do so love this place.  It really is forever a part of me, as much as some other places beckon me to visit.