What I'll miss

Lately, I haven't been in one place long: in three years, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Scotland, Tennessee, and now Scotland again. All this moving means every day, the little flakes of missing people left build up. It means transportation is expensive and family time limited. It means isolation and feeling out of the loop.

But today I'm grateful for the thousand ways it’s been so good and so wonderful. Today, I'm grateful for the soaking-up-today that comes when I know I must leave a place. Things I love about that place become brilliant and precious, and I start to notice them like pieces of sea-glass; I can’t stop finding them and holding them up to the sun. Knowing my suitcases will be filled in 5 months means today I want to gather what I love here and run my fingers across its matte grain and cup it in my palm to see its colours. So, here we go. Only one rule: you have to think about what you'd miss if you left your place, and be thankful for it, too.

The grass. It’s always green. The grass is short and dense, and feels soft as a chenille on your heels. Flying into Edinburgh, you see patch upon patch of evergreens and bright greens, dull and mossy greens. November, February, and August, the grass is always greener here. Really.


In winter, the grass still slides across the land like a glove


thanks to landscapers who piece it together like so (this is new, so it's not quite green yet)


The sky. The beach is framed in by the low, low clouds that press down but expand endlessly, often touching the sea in the distance.


Every walk we take, Walk looks out at the clouds over the sea and says, That’s beautiful.


Yes it is, I always agree.


Calm. Scotland is quiet. When I first moved here, I was chided for my volume; but, now my ears are used to softer conversations, space and silence for thought and prayer. After my first ten months in Scotland, when I got back to America, I literally wanted to cover my ears and yell for everyone to please quiet down. I got over it, but silence, I've learned in poetics, needs to be cherished. (Photo credits to my amazing-photographer husband on these and a few others in the post.)