Bon Voyage

Last night we drove out to the west side of the island for a little family excursion (a.k.a. we really needed to get out of the house after a day of packing). We glued ourselves to a rocky perch and watched the sun settle behind the mountains and saw the whales swim by. This island, our (mostly) idyllic home for the past six years, is so incredible. It's not simply the naturally beautiful surroundings that we love, it's all the truly amazing people who choose to call the island their home. Sitting quietly with my family and absorbing the view, I wondered, "When exactly did the island became home?"

Was it when I started playing Bunco once every month with eleven hilarious women, rolling dice and chatting nonstop and laughing like only twelve ladies can? Thank you Deb Vermiere for asking me to be a part of this raucous, inspiring group of women. Or was it when I started running several mornings each week with Kerry, Adrienne, and Shannon? We tested our strength, our endurance, and our friendships. Perhaps the island became home when I had hyperemesis gravidarum (translation: the worst morning sickness possible) while pregnant with our son? Word traveled quickly (as it usually does here) that I was too ill to assume anything but the couch potato position, and soon Kathy Babbitt, Val Curtis, Lovell Pratt, Cheryl Opalski, and Amy Harold (others too, though my memory is a little fuzzy concerning that time period) knocked on the door with delicious dinners in hand for Chris and Greta. I think, too, it could have been when I started volunteering at the library just two months after we moved here. I coveted my Thursday afternoon shift that I shared with Beth Hudson as time away from being a mom and time devoted to the library, a place I grew to love. Of course, the island becoming home is a summation of all these examples . . . and many, many, many more.

I think I have grown up a lot since moving here. I have learned to navigate life with two kids (more challenging and more joyous than I could have predicted), to run 13.1 miles and cross the finish line with a smile, and to be courageous enough to embark on this adventure. It's difficult to leave such a lovely paradise. The consolation is knowing that this place, this island with its tremendous people, gave me the confidence to simply go for it.