Joel died and life changed. Now, after several years of wandering the globe, looking for meaning or redemption in places as diverse as Africa, the Sahara Desert, Morocco, Egypt, India, Mongolia, Thailand, I have come to put down roots in the desert of my youth, in the desert where my son was also born, in the desert that calls me back, time and time again.
Sunday, January 13, 2013
would not be the first person to come back from 14 months in a war zone to some
cruel and bitter disappointment. It happens so often; it's almost cliché. You come back already disillusioned and
discouraged, and then…. But my little
house in the canyon was waiting for me- patiently, faithfully- a few glitches,
but nothing that could not be remedied.
has been colder and grayer than I recall and, while I know there’s no truth in
it, the coldness in my heart has been reflected in my surroundings and it seems
I have drawn it to me and wrapped myself in it.
Perhaps the spring thaw is just on the horizon.
the morning of new year’s eve, I woke to the thick and welcome silence of
snow. After 14 months of helicopters,
generators, and controlled detonations, in a camp of 3500 other people, that
morning I woke to perfect stillness.
have started work again on this sweet little house. We are moving a wall in so I can have a window
seat to sit on and watch the birds feed.
we installed the wood stove and I finally have heat. I will be putting my chainsaw to good use.