I think part of my resistance to blogging is that I feel like I have to explain myself ... so I couldn't just post something today because WTF where have I been and what have I been doing since August 3rd?! and how could I just post some little missive about my morning walk when I haven't told any news about our arrival or what we've been up to the last couple months. I remember reading a great quote once about perfection being the voice of the oppressor or something like that - that it will "keep you cramped and insane your whole life". I totally agree and would add something about how you'll never do anything if you're waiting to do it perfectly (if only I could say it as eloquently but not saying it because of that would rather defeat the purpose wouldn't it?!). And so, it is without further explanation or excuse, that I post my first entry from Eden:
This morning I stood with the sun at my back and the ponds stretched out before me. The night had painted the fields white and laid misty blankets over the water. The trees in their fall skirts were gathered around the western edge, all gold and rust in the day’s first light. I watched a small brown bird pull the glossy white berries of the gray dogwood off their bright red stems. I could see the juice squirt from its tiny beak and I began to cry. Never have I been close enough to witness the detail of such an ordinary moment.
Words truly are imperfect to express how overwhelmingly grateful I am to be here.
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