Today, one phase of vacation comes to an end. My sister, her spouse, their son, his friend--all go home today. It makes sense, because school starts on Monday, although what that will look like in this time of pandemic surge is still unclear. I understand wanting a buffer day between arriving home and starting back to regular life. I am thinking of a time at a different resort, 11 years ago, when the thought of leaving brought my nephew to tears. I am fairly sure there won't be tears today, although some of the sadness will be similar.
I will feel a bit of sadness as I always do, the sadness that comes from realizing that what is happening on a micro scale is also happening on a macro scale--time is zooming along, and it will become ever harder to avoid the losses that zooming time presses in on all of us eventually.
My spouse, mom, dad, and I will stay at this resort one more day. My regular life doesn't resume exactly. On Monday, I take my parents to the airport, and then I go to work for one day to get ready to be out the rest of the week. On Tuesday, I drive to Columbia, SC to the Lutheran seminary (LTSS) to finish the certificate program in spiritual direction that I started 2 years ago. It was supposed to be an 18 month program, but the pandemic extended it.
Some of us will attend in person and some virtually, and I'm not sure what that will look and feel like. The seminary students won't be there yet, and when we're gathered in person, we'll be wearing masks. I requested a single room, and I imagine that everyone who wants one will get a single room.
Then I return, and with luck, we go to our house closing on January 10. My seminary classes start on January 19. I am glad that I chose to continue to attend virtually and online, in this time of pandemic surge with Washington, D.C. being one of the places in the nation with the greatest increase of cases.
But for today, let me not focus on all that is coming at me/us in January. Let me enjoy one more day of tropical drinks by the pool. Let me focus on reading fiction, since I won't have a chance to do that much once my seminary classes get underway. Let me enjoy meals with loved ones and views of a different coastline.
And perhaps I will write a poem. A few days ago, I made this Facebook post:"It is oddly foggy on the west coast of Florida this morning. It looks like it snowed overnight--or that something dreadful has happened to a lot of mermaids."
Since then, I've continued to think of mermaids and sea foam and the death of mermaid dreams--or is it the resurrection of the girlhood dreams of mermaids? I came up with this line to begin a poem: Some days it is better to be sea foam.
Yesterday, the morning fog that looks like sea foam was tinted in different colors, which made me think that maybe sea foam doesn't represent one eternal idea, but many.
A poem is percolating, and I want to remember.