Brigadoon

I'm home. After all, it's where the heart is n'est pas? Oui.

Yesterday Steve and I drove up to the cabin to finish up the last bit of cleaning and meet with the landlady. We finished cleaning faster than we'd expected (much of it had already been done), so we wandered down to the river for a bit. Then, since we still had almost two hours to kill before my landlady was scheduled to show, we went into town for some lunch. I caught myself wistfully looking out the window several times.

The cabin in the woods was such a good place to be, such a place of healing for me. I thought about that whole beautiful Winter last year... the solitude, the mountains of snow, the scent of the wood stove, playing and cuddling with Nino. It was just what I needed.

And it's funny... the whole time Steve was on the other side of the mountain, staring at it and wondering where the hell I was. Stays he's been staring at the mountain for years wondering that. He found me just in time, and all I had to do was figure out that I was ready.
Anyway, we finished everything at the cabin yesterday and, with a hug, I handed my keys over to my landlady. Then we drove away from the little place in the woods and back down to the valley. As soon as we got here we stepped out on to the back porch and looked toward the mountain. It was gone... vanished in the heavy clouds... as if it had only existed in my dreams. Brigadoon. (*wink*... It'll come 'round again.)

I'm okay with all of it. My heart is wrapped up in clover....

~At Last, Etta James