While we grumbled about rain drenching our tent, our socks and everything else, the region we so recently left suffered smoke and superheated winds. I worry about my friends. I wonder about the tomatoes and zucchini ripening in our garden, the hanging pots of petunias.

Our hearts and minds are split between old home and new, our attention on friends and family in both places. We’re inhabiting that liminal, in-between, time and place, neither here nor there and yet scattered everywhere.

Where are my sunglasses? My belt? My cat? (Don’t worry. The cat is at my sister-in-law’s house.)

Even in our dishevelment, I feel amazed and blessed by the events and people that lifted us onto the wave that carried us out of our previous life and back to the place where I was born.