I'm tired. It's almost midnight here in NJ. The kids are in bed. The car is packed. Maude is loaded and ready to go. The dog has gone to her favorite home away from home where she'll be spoiled rotten, and other than a few odds and ends, we'll put the rack on the car, load the tandem, and head for the highway to Boulder in the morning. Hard to believe I'm not going to see this monkey and his brother for a month. I'm going to miss this face. I might even miss the sibling rivalry a little. . . .
I hope I sleep tonight. My body is aching for it, but my mind is going a million miles a minute. Well, maybe 10 miles, because it's late and the day's been long and full and the hot shower I took a little while ago is sinking in. I have few words in me at the moment, only this slight tug that tells me I'm going to miss this house while we're away. It feels good to know that home is waiting for us right here, this bookshelf, this living room, this kitchen alcove, this backyard, this ochre-colored office, these steps that lead to the porch where, when we return, we'll sit with morning coffee and look out at the street and see Erin and her girls heading down the block and scroll back to where we've been and what we've done. It's a little funny to be thinking about all of that now, when we haven't even started, but it's a comfort nonetheless. Home as launching pad, home as soft landing. A place to carry within us as we travel these new roads and pedal with our hearts in our legs.
Hanging with my girls before I leave them for a month - errands to the farmers market, bagels and chai at our favorite coffee shop, pushes and pinches and "stop it!" in between the smiles and giggles. Manicures and pedicures to round out the morning and we all ooooh and ahhh over each others colors. I'll miss it all...