It's been a wild month. Winter has given way to Spring and that's a wonderful thing. I'm a happy gardener and I like nothing more than seeing new growth and planning my own plots of land.
But. I'm unsettled and I don't like it. After four months away JB and I won't be back in our own home for another 2-3 weeks. We've had to leave our rental on the bay and move to another temporary place while the construction and renovation of our house continues. It's a bit of a helpless relationship--dealing with contractors. You can prod and try to manage but they call the shots in getting things done. We have a contract that says finish by May 15th and my fingers are crossed.
I'm also aware of a very unsettled world. I'm shocked at the power Donald Trump has amassed already. I hope I'm still alive to see his influence waned and gone. I hope there is a pendulum that swings back to tolerance and inclusion. And peace. I don't know how "we've" collectively stopped caring for one another so dramatically.
Last night I had dinner with twelve friends from high school. We will all turn 70 this year. It is amazing for me to say outloud I will soon be 70. That's not an age that can be fudged. The conversations about achy bodies and joyful grandchildren and no-bullshit living and the importance of memories left me thinking that my own experience is more common that I think.
I'm currently unsettled because I have reasons to be. I want to get back home and plant my seeds and six packs. And not just in soil. I want things to slow down bit. More time to finish my novel. Enjoy the kids. Feel the sun. Walk in low tide sand. Be kind. Be astonished. Lighten up.