Hey! it's a good day. Don't stress!
I had two good pieces of news yesterday. That's it, two, two, TWO! Ah ha ha ha...just like the sides of the whipped cream mustache that Corb sprayed on me on Sunday.
First, my bonus came in. No more living off my credit cards! Wee-hah!
Next: Pauline called, and my vacation has been set for the third week in July. Time to go back to the beach house in Yarmouth.
This is an old place with a lot of memories. It's been in the possession of one family for over a hundred years, and clearly holds many special memories for them--and for my family, too. My friend Pauline discovered it, back when she was still dating Bob. Our connection with this space has now lasted beyond the death of her mother, the death of my grandmother, through her break-up with Bob, and mine with Josie. And of course, through dozens of friends...and also, new beginnings.
In fact, I've written about this space in LJ before, back when I first started keeping my journal. Back when things were just about to fall apart. Or should I say, back before things were reconstructed? Yes, I like that a lot better.
The house is set near a vineyard, right across from a bay. It's colonial American, all wood and small rooms and crooked flooring. There's a piano in the living room, and old first edition books. There's a dock by the Bay that I love to take a running jump off. Just when I reach the edge, I bend down, I grab the side, I do a somersault over the edge, into the water. There are small inlets that one can explore with a short kayak ride, and a slow moving tide that sweeps you down the edge of the seashore. A very nice ride in the dead of night, wrapped in the arms of the one you love.
There's an area across from the house that looks over the Bay. How many nights have I crept out of my bed, at two in the morning, to just sit there, listening to the crickets, to the sounds of the water, to the whisper of voices making their way down the street, to the chimes of boats making their way down the bay. To listen to the meandering thoughts in my head, something that seems so difficult during the day, and yet, impossible to avoid during a hot summer night.
This time around, Pauline, Corb, and I are chipping in together, along with Annie and Chad. Pauline thinks it'd be fun to have a party the Saturday night before we leave. I think that would be righteous.
What will it feel like to enter this place again? Last time I left it, I was feeling lost and anxious about the future. Now, I am surer of my path, and pleased with the direction my life is taking. By the time we arrive in July, the play will be a thing of the past, and I'll be working on finishing up Late Night .
Think of that. An end to the Late Night that has taken up three years of my life.
Speaking of which, it's almost midnight now. I'm sitting here typing, editing actually, with my window open. The geese are back on the pond, and there’s a spring breeze in the air.
And yes, I feel renewed.