Our family is hosting an unusual event; at least I think it's unusual. My husband's side of the family is gathering this weekend in Annapolis. There will be three generations there, 15 people in all including significant others. I think the event is unusual due to two things: first, it is hard to get people together when they are spread across the country; and second, the reason for this reunion is to talk about ourselves over two days in an effort to become closer as a family. The idea is that if you share your hopes, aspirations even your fears, others in the family can better relate to you and offer support and encouragement. Of course, I will be asked to share as well. I decided that I would write something, as speaking extemporaneously has never been my strong suit. The interesting thing about writing, however, is that you often don't end up with what you started with. Sometimes, the mind goes off on its own, in a totally unexpected direction. I wrote my piece this morning. It covered what I wanted others in the family to know about me. But after letting it sit for just a few hours, I am now reconsidering my words. This is what is so magical and wondrous about writing. It helps hone your focus, your intent and channel and merge both your conscious and unconscious selves. I think I will let it sit a bit more, revisit it tomorrow and decide how I shall proceed. I can't wait to discover what my writing will reveal to me.
It's finally getting chilly here as we prepare to take Riley for a walk. I now feel that winter is coming rather than just knowing that it will eventually arrive. I no longer work with my window open and have had to turn the heat on at night. I am looking outside at our cherry tree that will soon drop its leaves--becoming a mere skeleton of branches to greet me as I start work each morning; fitting, I guess since Halloween is only two weeks away. I do not like the cold and imagine when we go sailing today, my feelings for falling temperatures will be sufficiently reinforced to admit that this might be the last sail of the season. Already, I can't wait for spring. But I know that I will appreciate the warmth so much more after having lived through another winter. So bring it on. I'll be ready with down blankets and late night fires, replacing the summer sound of waves on the beach with crackling burning wood.