“After a still winter night I awoke with the impression that some question had been put to me, which I had been endeavoring in vain to answer in my sleep, as what—how—when—where? But there was dawning Nature, in whom all creatures live, looking in at my broad windows with serene and satisfied face, and no question on her lips. I awoke to an answered question, to Nature and daylight.”
(Henry David Thoreau. Walden)
Awoken, but in that moment, caught between two worlds. Africa and Canada.
The sand: I was thinking of the people in my other home, in Mali, West Africa. Are they really real? It seems like forever even though it was only fifteen weeks ago since we left Mali. How are we going to most effectively kick off this next term?
The Sea: But then I looked out the window to squash any hope of dry weather to complete any repairs on my remaining lobster traps. So much for getting them into the storage shed before it rained. Sigh!
I woke up to the tail end of a hurrican rising from the south that, thankfully, only deposited high winds and heavy rain on the shores of Prince Edward Island.
So in the wee hours of the morn, I’m sipping coffee, glancing up from my book from time to time, with long stares at the forest nature in front of my window. Appreciative, but rather blank and truly thoughtless state of mind right now
Some question had been put in me, about West Africa, my life there. But it’s lost, for now.
That is probably a good thing, for today. It’s ok to drop the questions sometimes, right?