Twyla and I return from the little Island with dirt beneath our fingernails and a heart full of ocean. We slept in a tent with the sand from our castles and a rowdy family of paper-mache cats. At night the waves were our lullaby and Twyla made stars with her torch on our canvas sky. Anyone who was interested learned from her that our ‘house’ had two doors and that she could zip and unzip its edges ‘completely by her very own’. I fell in love with the sea all over again, like before, when I was smaller. We drew with sticks in the dirt and made small worlds with shells and seaweed that were stolen gleefully by the waves and the wind. Peppermint tea and dark chocolate. Late night conversations around fires and quiet. Remoteness, gatherings, story, earth, and a mulberry tree with a wooden swing.
The circus festival was a flurry of hoops and scarves. There were winged creatures on stilts and children leaping and soaring through the air, summersaulting onto spiders webs, and eating donut’s filled with chocolate. We learned to balance and fly like whales with our hands and feet holding each other up. The world was our carnival and I was reminded that there are so many different ways to live this life, and so much to be grateful for.
It was a magnificent adventure. I was able to drink into my bones the awe, curiousness, celebration and opportunities for connection that I dream will live in our BIG pages. I am so grateful to Jo for carrying the load in my absence, and more than thrilled to be back in the conversation that brings us closer and closer to the publication of our first issue!
Mother and child sipping peppermint tea