Saturday, July 30, 2005

Whispers From Wanderers 

Week two on the Cape. We've moved from Wellfleet to Brewster, from a high-ceilinged glasswall to a rental property right out of the 1700s complete with butter churn, darkwood doorways at steep slanted angles, low, post-and-beam construction. Farther from the water, but it's a quick drive, and the library here has no wait for terminals. Are you out there, can you hear this?

It's been over a month since I woke up in my own bed, almost two since we had a bedroom to call our own. Both freeing and wholly disorienting to realize, late last night in front of the first cable feed we've seen in half a year, that long moments go by where I can fully accept, even embrace the truth that we live on the wind.

We're with Mom this time around. Willow and Cassia grow fat on roadfood and the affection of a series of single-shot relatives who join our band like charged ions and disappate when we move on. Cass, at three months plus, won't crawl but walks right-left-right-left easily when held up and tilted forward; can't stomach the windy beaches, but cackles like a madwoman when the dog rolls over.

At one of a thousand ubiquitous highend surf-and-finery restaurants the other day Mom noticed a batch of her favorite flower just outside the window, asked Willow Do you know why Black-eyed Susans are Grandma Susan's favorite flower? Willow looked up from her bruschetta beatless, replied Because you're black?

The future holds a Monday daytrip to the Vineyard, brother Jesse and his girl Jasmine midweek. Somewhere in the backbrain random thoughts of housepurchasing-to-come flutter up at odd moments like the tiny butterflies that flutter through the dunes sometimes when the wind dies down. Mostly, though, we live for the hour -- as wanderers must, else they become mere travelers.

posted by boyhowdy | 12:22 PM |

Comments:
The way you word things in your blogs just amaze me. I love reading about your family. I hope you all find a house soon. I am glad you are having fun on the Cape.
 
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