I’m writing from Grand Manan Island, where I’ve been coming since I was a little girl. The journey here has grounded me, as it always does. This morning I sit in the family cottage, looking out at a foggy Bay of Fundy, listening to cars pass by on the wet pavement. The challenges of the last few months are beginning to slip away, and I’m grateful.
Through some mysterious alchemy, my thoughts and emotions feel more organized when I’m here. My plan to develop a series of drawings about water (watersheds, specifically) is suddenly taking form in my sketchbook; my summer running schedule is mapped out. I feel the anticipatory pleasure of having just enough of a plan in place to give me purpose, with enough open space for the unexpected.