We flew out to Michigan on Tuesday--Fruit Bat, Kitty Cat and I. We cruised uneventfully over cumulus formations that rose up into the sky like small, cloud cities.
It was the easiest trip I've taken with them yet, letting me believe we can be a real traveling family someday, that I won't have to suffer the clench in my gut each time a jaunt approaches.
I like being here, in the place where I grew up. Especially in summer when the breezes are warm and the bay sparkles and the grass is aggressively green.
Our awayness, too, allows J. to work around the clock rather than knocking off after 12 to 14 hours of briefs and conference calls and document review. (Not that I'm allowing myself to resent his work. Too Much. On a good day.)
I've watched bees trying to pollinate my mom's floral deck cushions. I've run my fingers through a pile of deer fur left along a trail behind my parents' house. I've listened intently to the hollow, flutey coo of mourning doves and the constant chirp of crickets.
I've watched the kids frolic in the garden with their grandpa, getting horrifyingly, wonderfully filthy.
I've enjoyed our first few days and am looking forward to another week and a half, hoping for some fireflies and beach time and sizzling, orange sparklers.