howling

After several sleepless nights, I succumbed to a nap yesterday afternoon. I am not a nappy person, so I was consequently awake at midnight, staring at the ceiling and listening to Steph's snores compete with the wind howling down our lane, throwing raindrops against the skylights in uneven intervals. Eventually, Steph won, driving me to the office/guest room. I made my nest on the pull out couch, read a couple of chapters, listened to the wind roar as it rattled shutters and me, a little.

A tempest is making its way across France, again today. The sky is bullet gray, the wind is still screaming down the lane. I'm back in my personal fog but trying to push myself forward. My mind is on what could be a trip to the States sooner than I expected, to finish family business, to disperse my parents' belongings, gathered over thirty-five years of marriage and two lives cut short. This will most likely be my last trip home for a long, long time. Five trips in less than three years is straining our wallets and interrupts my life so much that it's no wonder I can't settle myself here - I've barely spent six months at a stretch in France.

But I'm not gone yet - I have to focus on here and now. I have too much to do to lose myself in daydreaming of what I'll do when I'm there. I need to be here. The wind howls again and brings me back. I've got to go - there's too much to do today.