The party ended about two hours ago and most of the dishes have been washed and will be put away in the morning. Eighteen people came for our farewell dinner party for our friend – he leaves the day after DH and I start our journey.
It’s late and I’m sitting here, listening to James Taylor sing soulful jazzy-folksy songs about love and longing, humor and sadness. His music puts me in a very mellow place. and I can’t write because I listen to his music too intensely. The harmonies, the lyrics, the new twists and turns in old songs are too compelling for me to put into the background. My brain listens too closely.
“. . . unbelieveable you, impossible me . . .” Whom shall I decide he’s singing about? Me and my DH? Me and God?
If little things mean a lot, then I am being overcome by little things.
Will one and a half liters of water be too much to carry? Should I stick to one liter? How many shirts should I bring? Two? Three? If they weigh next to nothing, wouldn’t it be proper to dress nicely for Masses when I am in towns? Socks – how many pairs are too many? Three? Four? What about sock liners?
Maybe I can bring music. James Taylor reminds me how much peace music brings me. My little iPod Shuffle weighs next to nothing – it will probably get lost, it’s so small. Should I bring it? Earphones.
Handkerchief or tissues? Camera and phone or smart phone?
Do I blog along the way or just take a paper journal and write everything at journey’s end? Will I remember everything by the end?