A gloriously late sleep in reveals softly falling rain, but hardly a cyclone, or a gale, or even a squall. There is not even a breeze, which is disappointing considering the preparations, but cracking the door open affirms our choice to stay indoors, as at least it is very very cold.
The strangely geometric chairs flanking the picture window prove to be incredibly comfortable, and the day drifts by as I sit watching over the lake, sometimes writing, sometimes reading friends’ blogs, sometimes calling friends and family, sometimes just looking. The rain continues and the misty clouds coalesce and thin, the water always glowing. It’s good to spend a lot of time on the phone with the people I miss, and I start to feel ready for this adventure to conclude and to be back on the same continent and in the same time zone as them. I’m glad for the chance to end up somewhere I wouldn’t have otherwise, or at least wouldn’t have for a long time, but I have had a slight and subtly growing feeling of living someone else’s path, fulfilling someone else’s dream, and I miss the desert and my own goals and plans that were postponed this winter, especially today when I have time to dwell on it.
The day expends itself, and I feel satisfied with the amount of writing of blogs and postcards, and we make good on our goal of not leaving the cozy room.