Michigan was gorgeous and heartbreaking as it always is. It is such a humble unassuming state. Boast about yourself more Michigan! I sometimes think to myself, when I compare it to the way Cape Cod and Nantucket strut around. It has amazing sand beaches, clear water, acres of cherry trees, the best corn you will ever eat, dense forests hiding ravines and trees of all sorts, and the most cheerful people.

A sweet and kind uncle of mine unexpectedly died after a bad fall and my family will be reeling from it for awhile. Because of the hubbub of flying with two kids, I didn’t make it back for the funeral. I feel lucky to hear stories from it and the nearly-all-nighter Irish wake, though it’s messy and exhausting to ask how everyone is doing and know that they are hurting. It was wonderful to see them but brought tears to my eyes to hear the edge on their voices from lots of crying and the lines on their faces.

We each brought things we loved to share. I brought coffee and homemade granola, Grace brought butternut squash soup, Jenny brought homemade salsa and gin from Traverse City, Andrea brought Amish cheddar cheese and dark chocolate cookies. We spent hours just sitting on the porch talking with the first Fall leaves blowing over our heads. That Fall wind….it’s like you feel the mass rush of birds flying south in it as it blows over your face. We walked the quiet beaches, wandered around the small town farmer’s market and gave my dollar to the high school boys belting out an awfully good guitar duet, walked along the river that cuts through town.

Oh this is the good life, I thought when I got out of the taxi back in Boston. My cozy home. My giggling toddler who can say “I. miss. yooo” when she sees me. My husband who got rid of all that pesky furniture we didn’t want any more and picked up a crib for Joan off craigslist. Weekend trips mean no vacation-hangover, just a blessedly simple pick-me-up and then back to life as I love it.