The Look on Emily’s Face When…

This is the look on Emily’s face when we change plans for our upcoming coddiwomple.

Not really. She doesn’t give a flying fig.

Neither she nor Samwise concern themselves with the itinerary. That’s in my hands, on my shoulders, and something I need to tweak. 

Many adjustments lay ahead, which is part of the fun of trips of this breadth. Traveling, for us, is the act of piecing together a moving jigsaw puzzle.

This piece doesn’t fit.
So, let’s move it then.

Instead of leaving for the hallowed haunting grounds of Mary Oliver on Friday, January 6, we moved our departure up by a day. I believe in good and bad juju, and 1/6 does not carry good energy. Our four-day visit to Provincetown is now a day longer, and I am all for it. 

As on nearly every first day of one of our grand adventures, we’ll swing by Medway, the town I grew up in, for a visit to the graves of Jack and Isabel. Jack would have particularly loved these coddiwomples. He’s the one who planted the seed in me, after all. In August of ‘…