I have been back for a week from my trip to the Northwest…it was a gift from my brothers and husband…a respite from caregiving and a rest and a reunion with two dear friends on two beautiful islands off the coast of Washington.

It was all I had hoped it would be with very lazy days, lots of conversation and good food, the seeing of new sights. While I was there, I hardly gave home a thought, which is just the way it seems to work with me. But since I’ve been home, I do think of Washington, and the dear people, and the tall, dark forests, and the moss, and the mist…

There is a bowl of stones on the kitchen counter with most of the stones I collected on the beach on Whidbey Island (but one is on its way to Santa Fe as an earthy Valentine to my nephew), and enough water to almost cover them. I visit the bowl throughout the day and pour little handfuls of water over the stones, watching their dull tops change to deep hues and revealed patterns.

It was good to get away.

And it is good to be home.