Now I know the length of time until my batteries need re-charging.
It's been one month since I left Elmira Pond and while I've been blessed with presence, getting to be with each of my children, to share in their lives and achievements, to bask in their love and play Catan and hang out in Missoula, Montana, and visit the upper midwest briefly, I'm longing for the pond.
I long for the soft, black earth of my garden, for pink cherry tree blossoms, for the scent of May lilacs.
I long to see that first osprey cannonball into the pond and grab a fish with his talons. My ears are perked to hear his chirps.
I long to sing to Blue Heron, to hear the bull frogs fill the night air with their sonorous mating calls. We can all make sounds out of tune.
I long to just sit on the warm wooden steps of the porch and drink a cup of coffee and just look--at the pond, the sky, the birds, the trains. Whatever surprises the day holds.
It's time to go back to Elmira Pond. Time to re-charge my batteries, to work on my next round of novel revisions. I'd like to say, to go home.
But like the migratory birds, I will have to move on, too.
We never truly possess a pond.
But a pond can possess you. I've been thinking about my relationship to the land, so your words, once again, resonate deeply. When do you return?
ReplyDeleteI return tomorrow! You know, I actually wrote the last line as, "But a pond can possess us." Then decided to end it where I did. So you completely understand! Yes, I'm starting to explore the themes of possession and dispossession and how they relate to migratory behaviors of birds. Actually, I don't know that there are connections, but I will look and explore. I have all this Elmira Pond material and I want to make something of it but say something, too. Just an idea for now.
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