525,600 Minutes

 525,600 minutes

525,000 moments so dear

525,600 minutes

How do you measure, measure a year?

(Opening lyrics from Seasons of Love from the musical Rent)

Today I walked the length of Old Silver Beach in Falmouth on Cape Cod. It was a perfect late September/early fall day, with cool air warmed by the sun. Just right with a light sweatshirt, though a few diehards (my kind of folk) were in their swimsuits. The summer people are gone and the gulls and I, and a few other kindred spirits, have taken back the beach. 

A year ago today, we cowered in our home in Florida while Hurricane Ian pummeled us with wind and rain and tore at our roof for almost 10 relentless hours. That day, and the ones that followed, were some of the most traumatic of my life. I'm not going to dwell there. Suffice it to say, it was awful. And awful doesn't begin to describe how awful it was.

As my bare feet squished through the sand and the sun warmed my face today, I reflected on all the miracles that have happened between then and now to put me here, in a place I have longed to be, walking the beach. It is so hard to believe, that I am close to tears of gratitude, joy, and amazement, whenever I think about it. 

In the six months we've been here, we have settled into a nice little home and a rhythm of our days. I have published a book of poetry and a picture book, and am close to finishing a Christmas romance novel that I plan to have out in time for Christmas:  

Candles in the Windows, a Christmas Romance: A young woman returns to her hometown just before Christmas and reunites with a childhood friend to save a beloved old school.

I'll be sharing more about that soon!

I have been to my 50th high school reunion, seen friends I hadn't seen in years, (I mean, we're talking 40 - 50 years in some cases), and seen my brother and sister twice each. 

High School Chums at our reunion - we all worked together 

at the Rose Glen Dairy aka Sid White's 

in the early 1970's 

Dick paints nearly every day, and we have found excellent speech and physical therapy for him. I've taken some classes and we've been to some lovely little concerts and seen a couple of musicals put on by the College Light Opera. I've been in touch with the CLO about volunteering for them this winter, which I think will be really fun.

By the grace of Jennifer French, I am still able to teach a weekly online meditation class for the Yoga Sanctuary, which is a lovely way to stay connected to the students I knew there, and also with some I have never met in person, and to continue teaching. I don't know what the future of my yoga teaching looks like right now, and that's okay. I'm willing to let it evolve. 

Our life is simple and simple feels like such a relief. We cannot travel, and it's okay. I'm so glad to be back here, I really just want to be here. 

So this is what I really want to say: If you are sad, worried, depressed, downhearted, or scared, and think that things will never be "okay" again, think of me, walking a beautiful beach on Cape Cod, a year to the day after one of the worst storms in history blew our world apart.