The Interim

I'm home from camp, and leaving for India on August 29th-- in 12 days.  Today I'm headed up to the cabin with my family.  This is exciting-- I haven't been there in something like two years.  I'm anticipating a paddle around somewhere-- my arms are already starting to twitch, missing canoeing every day-- and making a huge batch of soup to can with my mother, and swimming in the lake every time of day and sleeping out on the lawn-- I still have a hard time with four walls around me.  The cabin--actually, two cabins and a bunkhouse, and a garage that we eat in sometimes-- is a haven of memories.  It makes me feel young to be there.  I imagine fairies everywhere I turn.  Picking crab-apples for applesauce, fishing off the dock with Grandpa with purple lures, making muffins, playing demon in the garage, sewing on the treadle machine, doodling around with my cousins.  The bead shop, Granny's pantry, Larry's grocery.  Listening to old records, when we can make the record player work-- Simon and Garfunkle, records full of hymns.  Grandma watching 'As the World Turns' on a tiny, fuzzy t.v.  Cheesebuttons and Strudel.  Burnt toast with strawberry jam.  Always something that needs fixing.  A book on the cracked patio.  

Yes, I'm glad to be going there.  I need to soak up the love and laughter and banter and food that comes along with my family.  I need to re-assimilate into the world beyond Amnicon.  I need to prepare myself mentally for another adventure--this time across the world.