Hurricane Fiona made her presence known in Maine.

The weather is something we’re starting to pay a lot closer attention to as we move toward being completely at the mercy of Mother Nature in our future. Sailing is the perfect metaphor for what we all look for in life: a happy breeze, strong enough to keep us out of the doldrums, but gentle enough to keep us from being overwhelmed.

The summer has felt much like the eye of a hurricane, being the calm both after the storm of leaving St. Louis and before the storm of moving onto the boat (boat update coming soon). It has been a much needed opportunity to reflect on our past and contemplate our future. More than anything, it’s been a great chance to live in the present; to enjoy the New England homes of Stephen’s youth like we’ve not had occasion to do in all our years of living in St. Louis. Our previous vacations here were whirlwind visits with every moment tightly scheduled–the type of trip that calls for a vacation upon your return to recover from the hectic pace.

Making the decision to move to New England included taking on the role of caregiver to an elderly parent. This was part of the plan before we considered leaving St. Louis. We wanted to do our part and give Stephen’s sisters a break since full-time care became necessary. There is no doubt that it takes considerable time and effort, but the reward has been treasured and multifaceted. Having the opportunity to spend time with Stephen’s mother, Henny, has been such a blessing and a lesson.

As we sifted through generations of photos and belongings while clearing out the barn, we learned much history from Henny–the only person alive who still knows it. As we sat enjoying the magnificent view from the porch in Maine with Henny, we breathed deep and imagined the 23-year-old who bought the house with her husband and his siblings in 1959. As the years after unfolded, bringing siblings and friends onto the island, making lifelong connections with cousins and friends, the island became a treasure to most who have known it. What a different world and a different time. We appreciated the abundance and privilege that has been passed down, while at the same time feeling the challenges required to keep the house and property from deteriorating and losing its integrity.

We felt the aging of the generations on the island. We’ve gone from the revelers who party late in the evening with cousins to the adults who can’t wait to get in bed–sometimes feeling the pull of that younger partier in us wanting to stay out late, but always grateful for good judgement in the morning…

We traded stories with other islanders and appreciated the dedication of the generations before us. We felt gratitude to Stephen’s mother for what went into raising four kids on a rustic island, while always being part of the social happenings and keeping the summer house from rotting away.

Now we get to see the true Henny. The one whose short-term memory doesn’t last a minute, but whose long-term memory is perfectly intact and whose natural demeanor is nothing but sweet and pleasant. There’s not a crusty, crabby bone in her body. She’s effusive with thanks for her meds, as if we were bringing her a meal from a five-star restaurant, or maybe a giant lobster dinner. 

Autumn arrived on the island with Hurricane Fiona, bringing windy days and cold nights, making the electric blankets particularly popular, and the woodstove in the kitchen necessary to cut the chill in the mornings. This is the time of year that is wonderful for enjoying a blazing fire in the evenings, and preparing for moving off island to the creature comforts of central heating and insulated walls. 

Henny was ready to go and moved back to New Hampshire a couple of weeks before we did. We enjoyed a week on the island with sister Jamie, who brought us a goody bag from Fair Shares. We had a few nights in the house alone before packing up the cats to make the trek back to New Hampshire. We’re now relishing the beauty of the changing trees in New England.