Library Cards

Even in the midst of all our packing and frantic preparing to leave busyness, we made time for one last "first" on Bowen. The kids and I went to the library and got them their own library cards. Sure, we could have gotten these first cards anywhere we live, but it was somehow very important to me that they have this special moment on Bowen. It was nothing earth shaking - the lovely library volunteer had me fill out the forms, the kids waited with minimal pushing and excitement, they received their cards and each signed them (oh, the signatures, the sweet, sweet signatures). We weren't able to take any cards out with them - too close to leaving - but those precious cards are already packed away in their wallet (Sterling) and special box (Siena).

The Blessing

I was humbled. Moving this time is more than I can handle alone. So I sent out a "help me with childcare" email to my dear girl friends and my equally dear church. And the response...the blessing of a place like this. A friend from church - a business man turned poet, with kids past high school, offered to come to my house to help watch the kids this week. Another - again a lovely woman from church - emailed to say she had glitter pens and play doh dots (I don't even know what they are!) for Siena to enjoy. Siena doesn't know her well, but when I mentioned glitter, her eyes lit up and she said, I want to go there. Another morning freed up for me to focus on packing and moving. And my friends, all busy themselves, ready to take any and all the kids at a moments notice. Blessing is too mild a word for the gift they are all being to me.

And then today. Today we packed the house. We - though Chris is gone for the week at the Screenwriters Expo, though I have a kindergartener, a preschooler and a 6 month old, though many of my friends have kids in that age range (read: hard to find two minutes to spare to go to the bathroom much less help pack)... The dear students and family at L'Abri came to my rescue today. Eight of us here at my house, and two back at L'Abri watching 5 under 5 (two are 6 month olds). In the space of three hours, we packed 80% of the house, stopping only because the pizza finally arrived and everything that was left is needed for us to live here the next 9 days. Imagine - what might have taken me, with kids around, a week to do, we accomplished with high spirits, laughter and great conversation, in three hours. And then they stayed and blessed me with their company while we ate pizza and ice cream and talked.

Is it hokey for me to say that I've got tears running down my face right now? That I cannot for the life of me imagine leaving this place, filled with people from far and near who invariably treat each other with such kindness and joy-filled service? I can't. Imagine leaving. Although with my house in boxes, it does seem inevitable.

Last Time "Off"

Went to the mainland for the last time yesterday. It was a kind of spontaneous trip - for us there has never been much spontaneity in going onto the mainland, as it takes a fair bit of coordination with the kids and the ferry. Chris left for a week long screenwriting expo, and I needed to pick up boxes and packing tape for a weekend packing frenzy. So off I went...

And in part, it shows the beauty of this island life we live. I could watch the ferry coming and going from my kitchen, so I knew it was a few minutes late due to the fog (I can also hear the fog horn warning as it pulls in and out of the cove, one of my favorite sounds). I could call the kids preschool teacher, a friend, and say, I know they aren't due until 12:30, but can I bring them in at 10? I could drive the kids to school on the way to the ferry line up, realize it was full and going to overload, park, and still walk (okay, almost run) the kids up the hill to Artisan Square where the school is, and walk back to my car. Siena could fall while we were climbing the wet from rain trail, and the teacher was immediately present when we arrived to help her get cleaned up and give her hugs and love. I could know the person in the car next to me and have a great conversation while waiting for the (still late) ferry to arrive. I could nurse Sage in the car while I was waiting. We could go up to the passenger deck, post signs of all our "for sale" last minute, please don't make me move this, furniture items (and get calls on them later in the day).

Then we are on the mainland. It is busy and always a bit of a rush (I had to pick up the kids at a certain time). Drop off an entire mini-van load to the goodwill. Find the U-Haul and buy what seemed like an astonishingly expensive amount of boxes and packing supplies - and be helped by a wonderfully kind and perceptive customer (not the staff, needless to say), who loaded all the big boxes into the car for me while Sage had her one and only, "I hate being loaded and unloaded from the car all day" fit. Eat at an A and W Root Beer Stand (something about that always reminds me of college). Go to "The Real Canadian Superstore" and, because we are moving and I made a list and promised not to buy anything that wasn't on it, manage to move through the entire store in under an hour. I took pictures because it is an experience - one which I won't be able to repeat again for who knows how long, if ever. What a nut-job I am, but when life is "easy" again - when shopping is something that we can do everyday with ease, I want to remember how much I appreciated going to the store when it was only once a month. How full my cart would get trying to load up on 7 gallons of milk at a time. The race back to the ferry, hoping against hope that I hadn't cut it too short and would have to spend an hour waiting for it to return. The joy of being one of the last cars to make it onto the ferry, even though it seemed impossible (the ferry marshals can be amazing at wedging one more car onto the back of the ferry deck). And the delight in going upstairs, running into someone (usually many someone's) that we know, chatting and watching the beautiful scenery - Howe Sound, a log boom, the mountains (mist covered today), the approaching site of Bowen, decked in green and yellow splendor for the autumn, the announcement that we are approaching Snug Cove and that foot passengers will be disembarking on the car deck...

It was hard not to cry today, knowing that it would be the last time I would make the trip back onto Bowen for some time. I have, from the very first time we came here, had a physical response to approaching the island - a full body sigh, almost, which releases the pressure and mayhem of the mainland and "normal" life, the speed and the population and the consumerism, and the embracing of the retreat onto island life, replete with friends and community and living. Even as I write this I know how much I will miss that, even as I am gleefully rushing out to a Trader Joe's for a last minute recipe item, or winning an ebay auction and shipping it to myself without thought of tax or customs. I will miss it so much.

Canadian Thanksgiving

Ah, the holiday season is beginning! We celebrated Thanksgiving Canadian style this past weekend. It is still a novelty to me, to be thinking about Thanksgiving before Halloween, and while the sun is still shining and the days warm and bright. Makes more sense in the harvest scheme of things, but not in the deeply ingrained cultural, Thanksgiving is the fourth Thursday of November kind of way.

It was a typical Thanksgiving day here - we celebrated with friends on Bowen, on Sunday evening. It seems that the meal can and does take place anytime over the long weekend - Thanksgiving Day is actually on Monday (it coincides with American Columbus Day), but folks don't particularly seem interested in waiting until Monday to eat the turkey. In fact, there isn't always a turkey, or even a real set tradition of what "should" be eaten. In many ways it is really fun - a total hodge-podge of what makes people happy to eat. Because so many of us on Bowen are family-less, it is the best combination of those you want to be with, lots of laughter and few expectations. Thre is much to be thankful for this year - even as we look towards our upcoming move.

Six Months Old

Sage is six months old today - a whole half year, flown by so quickly. She continues to be such a treasure, just like her big brother and sister.

What are we doing at six months? Sage now sleeps till almost 7 in everyday (it depends on when her siblings wake up and make noise). She eats (still nursing exclusively, although she is VERY interested in what is on my plate at mealtimes - we will wait until we get to DC, but boy, is she ready!), and then plays on the bed with Sterling and Siena competing for her attention. She usually has a shorter or longer nap in the morning, then eats again (notice a pattern?), plays around, sitting up now (for quite a longish time before she falls over), grabbing at toys and grunting quiet little grunts. We usually walk the kids to afternoon school, and then she comes home, eats and takes what we hope will be a nice long nap (on great days, this can be three hours! Yippee for Mommy time). After her nap, she, don't be surprised, eats, and hangs out with the rest of us through dinner and clean up. Bedtime is usually at 8, and then she enjoys a "dream feed" at ten, and, for the first time last night, slept through until seven! Hurrah for good night sleeps for everyone!

Isn't that the life? And what are the rest of us doing? Continuing to purge and purge from our house, preparing ourselves for the awful day when we have to stop purging and start packing (I'm putting it off until the end). The kids are loving school and playdates and the fact that the sun is still shining, even though it is October (what a gift that is!). Chris is traveling a bit for screenwriting symposiums, and gathering insight and materials for moving on to the next phase of his story-telling work, The Story Collective.

And to leave you all with two of my favorite photos from Sage's sixth month "birthday" photos: