Wednesday, November 23, 2005
Sitting in the Morning Sun
There are two reasons why I'm posting this picture of the M-O-E-T-D-O-double-G today. First is the awesome cuteness of it. I can't get enough of my little man, hanging out on the people chair, enjoying the streaming morning sunlight and a steaming cup of java. He really is a person trapped in a small fuzzy body, I tell you.
Secondly, and possibly more importantly, is the fact that this pic was taken up at the cottage on a sunny spring morning. The birds were chirping, the sun was shining, the three generations of us Danish women (and the Momes, of course) were working hard on the puzzle du jour. It was perfection.
Maybe it's because we didn't get up to the cottage this fall, for the last blast before a long winter, that I'm missing it so badly right now. Sometime I miss that place so much that it actually aches inside my heart. It's hard to explain in words what that place means to me, so I won't even try today. There's no way I'm feeling literate or poetic enough.
I guess I just wanted to share a little memory from cottage seasons past, something to reflect back on as the winter settles in. I suppose I could still go up for a weekend, anytime before heavy snowfall makes the 4 hour drive too torturous, but without a long weekend it's really just too far to make sense. Besides, waiting it out really does make that first spring visit so much sweeter.
Truth is, the cottage has been weighing heavily on my mind since The Nana had a tumble and fractured her pelvis this summer. She's all alone up there all year long and it increases my desire to go, to spend time with her and with the land itself. A place that may well not be ours to enjoy for much longer. The mere thought of losing it causes waves of panic and tides of grief, but I know there's not much that I can do. So, I'll cling to the millions of tiny moments I've had up there, and share as many as possible right here as time goes on.
When the cottage has been passed on to another family, who will grow up there for generations and cherish it as we have, I will still have these pictures, words and memories.
Somehow it will have to be enough.