Monday, September 14, 2015
Greetings, Monday. You begin cold and windy in our neck of the woods. Your local weather belies the raging fire storms just 70 miles north of here. And southeast of here. Entire mountain communities in ashes. What is there to say? Terrible loss and destruction.
I spent the weekend in my old home town with my daughter and her family. It's only been four years, but already I get that otherworldly feeling when I am visiting. That dreamlike state that sees differently what one used to see daily. My daughter was born and raised here, and is raising her family here. Nothing seems changed to her. My perceptions are pervading my dream state: I'm in San Francisco, navigating neighborhoods that are completely unknown to me. I'm in NYC, lost and trying to phone local friends for directions. I'm in unknown territory. Nothing is familiar.
Back home, in the arms of my husband, I feel rooted again. No navigation dreams last night. There are appointments to be made for the cars, the doctor; lunches and dinners. Ant stakes need to be purchased at ACE and some fresh veg from the co-op. All around me it seems the world is burning, but, here, in our bubble, our week begins.