7: Between Here and Heaven

“With an arrow and bow and some seeds left to sow we are staking our claim
On ground so fertile we forget who we’ve hurt along the way and reach out
For a strange hand to hold, someone strong but not bold enough to tear down the wall.
’Cause we ain’t lost enough to find the stars aren’t crossed — why align them?
Why fall hard not soft into fall not winter spring not summer cool not cold
Where it’s warm, not hot, have we all forgotten that we’re getting old…?”

(“Between Here and Heaven,” The Goat Rope Sessions Thile, Duncan, O’Donovan, Meyer.

I’m losing my sense of what “home” is in this in-between place I’m staying. This morning we had soft-boiled eggs with toast strips for dipping into them called “Dippy Eggs,” a childhood favorite. We played games, visited, ate together (had an amazing sandwich that Liz made — smoked salmon, cucumber, mayo, lemon, salt and pepper on toast — I’m starting to describe the food here so I can remember details and poorly imitate it later.) It also helped that we ate out on the terrace while the sun was out and I even helped Glenn pull some weeds in the garden afterwards. Home? Is home here? Is home there? Is it somewhere I haven’t been yet? Is it even a place anymore?

Liz and I set out for a walk later. I told her I’m overwhelmed by how beautiful it is here and she admitted that she is, too, even after 14 years — she is very fortunate to call this place her home. She showed me some of her favorite places along the fields toward Sedbusk, the bench at the top of the hill, and the long lane they have redone recently. There were daffodils fading out, bluebells in bloom, unusual birds, a lamb that had made it through a fence and was yelling for his mom, stone bridges, a gorgeous, slow river, and lots of people to say hello to on the path.

I want to take a moment to remember Harold, Liz and Glenn’s beloved dog companion of 12 years who recently passed away. He was a Lurcher, a fine friend, and a very good, naughty boy. In Liz’s words, “A true Dales dog.” Bless him, indeed.

After having the chance to settle in and shake off the last 9 months of my life, I’m starting to feel this place. The land is solid under my feet but there are massive, slow currents — of time? the Earth? — turning underneath. Slow like the ocean, I think. I feel contained and held by these hills and am finding a calm I haven’t felt in a very long time.