I am here. I would say “I am home” but I still have the salt on my skin and the wind in my hair from the boat ride. It’s too soon to say anything other than I am back. Like leaving a lover I cannot be untrue to, if that makes sense.
I left blackberries, rosehips and a mocha dream in the fridge. I left sour apples on the tree and artwork in the gallery. I left kisa on the porch staring at the ocean (left that, too). I left the sunshine for five hours in a car talking to myself.
My phone is officially turned back on. My email is once again active. I have crawled out of a coma of contentment to rejoin the workforce; the living.
643 pictures and not one rainy day. Rocks. Sea glass. purple and blue mussel shells. I’m scratched from the brambles. Bruised from who knows where. I read the wrong book but drank the right wine. Cooked for friends. Cooked with family. Laughed at my nephews. Laughed with my sister. I think I did everything I wanted and thensome. But, somehow I wasn’t done.
So much to say about being home and leaving it. This is not the real deal. Not yet at least. More later. xoxoxo
~*LunaSea*~ 