Being Here

Not much to say. I am simply breathing.

We have landed. Apparently the older I get, the more I crave home. Familiarity. Comfort. There is a marked difference in my soul when I am in a familiar environment. I feel at home. Not home, per se, but at our vacation home, the place that marks time for us every year, surrounded by sun and sand and sea.

Something is going on with me. I am guessing that it has much to do with changing circumstances; graduating, leaving-home children, a new marriage, a new identity for me.

Sometimes I feel like I’m not quite sure who I am.

But then I think that I think too much, which is precisely what my eldest child told me. “Mama, you analyze things too much.”

Perhaps that is true.

Every day lately, I seize a moment and tell myself, pointedly, to be present. Live in this moment. Be here.

Today, I was standing waist-deep in the Atlantic ocean, taking in the panoramic view of water, water everywhere. Glorious sunlight. Rich, deep colors of blue and green, astounding in their fullness. Still, in a place of familiarity, and feeling safe: “Be here, now. Be in this moment.”

And I was. And I am.


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