Friday, July 20, 2007

Leaving Again


After thirty years - you'd think you'd get over the ache of departures. But when was it ever human nature not to long for more - more pleasant days of camaraderie and beauty.


But the proverbial sands of time have spilled into breeze and water - the voices and laughter of family have drifted with them out over the sea.



Some of us touched the ocean for the first wonderful time. (My grand niece, sweet Katie, and beloved sister Jen and her precious Laura and Kate)



Some of us remain behind, but love will span the distances. (Our terrific son, Jody)



The fog will grace the shore and harbors.



The tides will leave magic behind for wanderers.




Boats will swing around their moorings to point into the freshening breeze.


Our footprints may vanish. Our smiles remain.



Summer 2007
Chatham, Cape Cod

18 comments:

Lynne at Hasty Brook said...

A lovely place with people you love, I understand your ache.

Mary said...

Never leaves the ache of goodbyes. Ever. When you love.

But, "Hello Cathy in the white hat!" I'd love to sink my feet into the sand, too!

You have a beautiful family and you did a darn good job of recording baby's first touch of sand at the ocean? I love that.

You have such a good and sensitive soul. If you or your hubby needs a little giggle, I posted a doggie story two days ago...I thought of you during that post.

Hugs to you!

KGMom said...

Ahh the sweet ache of summer pleasure ending.
But, as you say, the memories remain.
Sand is a good symbol, isn't it, along with the tide. The impermanence of it all. Patterns made and erased.

Anonymous said...

Sounds like you had a lovely vacation Cathy. I love Chatham too, especially the seals. I try to go there every year but I don't know if the (soon to be) new baby will let me in August.
Tim

Larry said...

Nicely put-Sounds like you spent some real quality time there.-

dmmgmfm said...

That is truly beautiful, Cathy. You made me cry a little and smile a lot. Thank you.

Hugs,
Laurie

LauraHinNJ said...

This looks like such a beautiful place - and your family and you makes it even more so! I'd hate to leave it behind, too.

I love that misty picture of the little boat and... look at you smiling with your feet in the water!

Leaving stinks, but going home can be nice, too?

Pam said...

I understand the ache and felt tears gather as I read your words and enjoyed you lovely photos.

threecollie said...

Very lovely photo story. Thanks!

Mary said...

The green is the "Tree of Life".

I'm so glad I could lift your spirits.

Hugs from C & B and me, too! Drive safely, Dear Cathy.

Bonita said...

I would ache, too. It is so lovely there. You look so completely joyous in that photo, Cathy.

Anonymous said...

Lovely post!

Anvilcloud said...

Any nice shots. The rowboat in the fog is one of those for sure.

Anonymous said...

Does your whole family meet on the Cape every year?
Well, it is less than a year until next time!

This was a lovely post, both words and photos.

Ruth said...

I love the picture of the baby reaching out to discover the wet sand. What a beautiful place and lovely memories.
ruth

burning silo said...

That was just terrific. Your photos were wonderful. Loved the one of the seaweed "tree" on the sand - but the rest were super as well. I have a difficult time leaving people and favourite places too. It never seems to get any easier.

Cathy said...

Dear Friends . . .

For all the kind remarks - Thank you!

I'm still heading for home. I've stopped short of Toledo for family reunions and some housekeeping at the Outback in Loudonivlle, Ohio. (It's the webcam in the sidebar.)

My kid sis and mom just left and there's another reunion at my brother's who lives just below me on the hill.

I know you're all enjoying these beautiful long days - I don't want to miss one sunset - these days of lingering light are so precious. Be well, all - and I'll check in on your blogs when the dust settles.

nina at Nature Remains. said...

The more we enjoy, the harder it becomes to leave it. The bittersweet reminder that we feel equally the loss we also revel in.