….it’s chilly. I have already packed a jacket, my latest socks…. one to wear, one to knit.
…….it’s quiet. The cell phone is off, the computer is left here. Unplugged completely, except for The Mister’s phone which he controls on a need-to-know-basis.
……it’s still. There will be no rushing between here and there. I will sit and be still. I will go for a run but be quiet. No one will ask me for a single thing. No one will want or care about my opinion, unless of course The Mister wants to know if I prefer breakfast he makes, or at the cafe around the corner.
…..it’s beautiful. The trees on top of Brasstown Bald will wave their red and gold hands. The old farm-house in the valley will remind The Mister of his Virginian roots, and he will tell me stories about his days in the hills with his Granny as the sun sets and we sip coffee on the deck.
….it’s mine. Oh, the cabin is not really mine. But I like to think that this place and time is my personal oasis. This is where I reflect, reprioritize, release what is too heavy for me too carry. Here is the place I stop the world and get off for a few days. I take The Mister and we go on long walks. We forget our worries and just enjoy each other.
….we laugh and love. Lynn and Craig meet us and we laugh like nobody’s business. I suppose they are the dearest to us in all the world, and these are they days we talked about years ago.
….you cannot go, but I will tell you all about it when I return.