|Summer of 2007, the annual hoedown at Seabold Farm, with our cottage in the background|
On July 3rd, Jason and I celebrated five years of living on Bainbridge Island. When we arrived, fresh off a road trip from Boston, we were childless and ready for adventure. We moved to a farm and lived in a tiny caretakers' cottage. I loved commuting by ferry to my job in the city.
On our first full day on the island, we headed down to the annual Bainbridge Street Dance. I remember assuming that we would make new friends that very night. It is a small community, after all. I laugh now because a town of 20,000 people is actually quite big - - and we were lost in crowd of unfamiliar faces. I can remember sitting on the curb, eating fried food off a stick, missing Red Sox nation.
Our years on the farm were fulfilling. We gave up a lot to pay off our debts and save for a down payment. We learned a lot about birthing ewes, making hard cider, and sowing seeds in a greenhouse. And they were hard years too. Jason had his island life and I had my commuting life. I was often jealous of the connections and relationships he was building. I complained to him a lot. Even got in the way of his happiness at times.
And as life inevitably does, everything just kept evolving and shifting. Truman joined us on the journey, we planted ourselves more firmly on the island by buying a house. I traded the ferry commute for a close-to-home job.
From the outside, it all seems so small and so normal. So a couple of kids got married, moved around, settled down, had a kid, bought a house. What is the story? Why does this matter?
And from the inside it feels totally profound. We trusted that there was a plan for us. That if we listened, we would hear a calling. That if we were patient, the right opportunities would arise. And when I close my eyes and picture the last five years, every shot is of Jason - smiling at me from across a garden, across a barn, across a porch, across a nursery.
Thank you to my hubby for making life so sweet. I love you.