My bags are packed! Let the countdown begin :)

So many images in my mind, sweet familiar faces and buildings and trees. Like the camera graffiti I passed every day when I would walk back home from Ula (top left). It just said, "shoot." Made me smile every time. Or the handmade plates at Bella Luna (bottom right/top right). Or encouraging chalk art.

This has been a profoundly good trip. I am thankful.

I finally took my walk around the pond -- the soft sounds of ducks, the vigorous splashing of dogs chasing balls in and out of the water. I always find myself moved by the speckly light that falls through trees. After waiting for this particular walk for months, it struck me that the pond -- beautiful though it is -- has at times been precious because the sound of the water felt like company when I was alone, felt almost healing. But on this walk, I did not need healing. I simply smiled at the light and the leaves and the boats and the sky. And that was enough.

Is there any better feeling in the world than a tiny baby, heavy with sleep, nuzzled into you? I can't think of many. (Except maybe being wrapped up in the arms of the man you love :) ) I had to run to catch the bus from South Station, and scraped up my legs a bit when I wiped out on the escalator, but all was well as soon as I sat down on the bus and knew I was just hours away from my friends. We played at a park today, and I pointed out two spider webs to an exited little guy, then he got a great deal of joy from watching me slide down the tall slide. There was a long walk and much talk about you (and how much they want to meet you!) Now bread dough is rising and the baby is nursing and we're watching Gilmore Girls. Soon there will be wine and calzones and salad. And light on green hills. How can one heart hold so much joy? This trip is a gift. You are a gift. I love you.

These are my kids, tucked into my heart, traveling an hour to and from school, who carry stories that break me, who have fought harder than I'll ever understand for this moment. When they hold that diploma and have their chosen college's sweatshirt draped over their shoulders, I defy anyone to hold back tears. One girl, Ayana, is dyslexic. She entered MATCH with a 4th grade reading level, and used to ask me to come in and work with her an hour before school a few days a week. That girl would sit there and read her history text or essay out loud with me, pushing herself relentlessly. That girl is going to Loyola University this fall. She was valedictorian.