Michael and the Boyz are enjoying a little Florida jaunt while Katie and I have come to a far different place:

We rose at 4:30am, dashed up 65 then 69,  were in town by 3pm, turned on the heat and the water in the house (the realtor had fallen down on the promise to do the former. It was 31 degrees inside), went to Mass, then I dropped her off at her friend’s house and here I am at a Panera Bread, since there is of course no internet in the house and I’m waiting until the temperature hits 50 at least.

It was the first time back since we left in late July, and oh, is it odd. I think Katie captured it well when she said, “When we got to town, I felt as if the last few months were  a dream and we were just coming back home.”
Driving down those so-familiar streets, slipping into our usual pew (near the front, on the left side, in front of the nativity with the empty manger, the magi making their way slowly from far on the right, on the other side of the church), seeing the same L – with-a-slash-through-it lighted Christmas decoration at the neighbor’s house around the corner (think about it)…
Strange, to feel fairly settled in one place, and then plunge back into another that may not be a place to which you desire to return, but is still more familiar than the new place, and marked by a million more memories of every kind. And you still have a key. But you won’t be staying.
It’s a bit unsettling, for you thought you were settled, but now you see how far you have to go and what is missing,
Besides the ice.
The ice storm came through Thursday night, and much of the area is still without power. The ice is gorgeous, glistening, coating every twig, weighting them down so they look, bent over, sweeping the ground, like dancers. It is gorgeous, but the beauty just shimmers on the surface, under which the weakest, old and young, huddle in the cold darkness, under which the tree itself weakens,  snaps, breaks and loses its own life.