circle: (1) ring, halo (2) orbit
or period of revolution
(3) circlet, diadem (4) cycle
(5) a group of persons
sharing a common interest

Some passages are so easy to write..they fall from my fingertips as easily as
the last leaf of fall or summer sunsets or gentle winter snows...others take
the marrow from my bone as I write, and this is one of those.

This week the farm house burned to the ground. No one was injured, and that
is really all that mattes. Aaron and Karen had just moved into the house this
summer beginning their home and life together with little Matthew and Baby
Jonah joining them in September.

It was great fun for me to see the life flowing back into the farmhouse. I
have not lived there for six years...it was beginning to be home and hearth to
them with wreaths on the doors...wood stacked for the winter..noses pressed to
the glass.

The first time I visited them this fall, it actually took my breath away as
it is/was still full of all of my "things"...kitchen table, antiques, dishes,
butter churn, apple peeler...things of the farm that I had left behind when the
time came for me to leave.

I enthusiastically shared stories with Karen..for it was her house now..the
pine tree out front that was twenty feet tall that was our Christmas tree one
year..the small hole in the beam where we would secretly hide our new year's
resolutions...the bird feeders and etchings on the windows that I documented
parties and quotations from my favorite authors. I had to smile the first time I
walked over Aaron's hunting coat...it was as if he and his brothers had left
it in the doorway ten years earlier.

Ahh, the smell of woodsmoke and pine and candles..the scent of home for so
many years.

The fire came on a foggy night...they were visiting friends and came home to
their new young future of glowing embers with just the shirts on their back
and two children in their arms. I had gone to Ocracoke to spend the week with
Philip and talked with them at midnight as they stood arm in arm in the midst
of nothing but the circle of their love.

Adam and I flew home immediately to open our arms of family as they moved
into the house at white picket gardens.

We have come a long way since Tuesday...has it really only been a few days?
It feels as if a lifetime has passed since I boarded the ferry to come home.
My house looks a bit like a refugee camp with all the porches and rooms full
of clothing and toys and blankets and coats from the community...mine and
others...folks in Atlanta..folks on the island. The phone or the doorbell doesn't
stop ringing. Checks are taped to the glass on my doors while we are
sleeping. The generosity of community humbles me and my children.

I spent an afternoon with Adam and Aaron..it was gray and cold...we wore old
shoes and walked through black, charcoal rubble looking for pieces of our
lives. Everything had fallen to the cellar and all was lost...except for a few
pieces. My cookstove that I paid for ten dollars a week was ruined and upside
down...but I could rescue a burner..a cast iron pot was found...one that I had
cooked in so many times. Aaron's fifth grade leaf collection was still intact
with all of the leaves as if we had just come home from the park..I remember
putting it together. Their fifth grade teacher's postage stamp photo was on
the top of the ground....we found latches and burnt keys and coin collections
from their young years. Abe was unable to come home, but oh, we thought of him
as we stood together in the darkness of the daylight. We grieved over lost
butterfly collections and hunting trophies from the farm and hours of careful
hunts. Out of the dust, Adam pulled a couple of books melted together. They
were their graduation books that I had bought for them..Oh, the places you'll
go by Doctor Seuss. Abe's was safe here in my house. The inscription that I
had written was still visible and clear as well as the apron string that I had
cut off and placed upon the pages. We stood in the damp air as I read each
one out loud with tears streaming down our faces...To my children, enjoy each
day, listen for fairies, wear rosy colored glasses when you need to, face the
challenges that await you with strength and love.

At night we pulled out boxes of photos that I had already placed in my
possession...we told story after story..we laughed, we cried, we remembered.

We have put babies to bed and made meals and learned how to all live together
this week. We have spent countless hours around the table wondering what to
do next...having a plan, but plans are difficult, and our eyes are full of
sadness. I stay awake at night after I have tucked everyone into their beds
wondering what I can do to help them through this..to help them heal...tell more
stories...listen to each other..hold our babies tight.

On this cold night in December, I look out my windows and see Christmas
lights, and I am so surprised..Christmas seems like a dream. At this moment a
forgotten dream...but the circle goes on...we will heal..we will tell stories..we
will laugh..we will love each other.

Through the dark cosmos...wherever you are...I send you, my family and
friends, these words that I wrote so long ago...Enjoy each day. Listen to fairies.
Wear rosy colored glasses when you need to, and face each challenge with
strength and love.

Lou Ann