"I find we all need a place to land"

The longest day of the year was marked by an accordian. We lounged in the sun and marveled in all the babies born since the last solstice, then snuck off cackling to the pond to revel in our non-parental status. We watched the bonfire ignite submerged in a steaming woodfire hot tub. We cooked eggs and made coffee in the morning. Cameron and Banjo played guitar while baby Angus pulled himself up.

We drove back through the country roads to the city of Portland where my stuff is in the basement and I am sleeping on the couch and the housing market swims before my eyes on craig's list.

For months this date was the marker to end the madness, the signal that the wheels could grind to a halt, and that I could rest, dig in, stick around a little while. Yet as I arrive at this great exhale, I realize I've got to take another deep breath and face creating a life that doesn't fit into my back pack.