It is snowing In Maine this morning and raining in San Diego. My home in Maine is being buried in whiteness and my California lodging is getting a much needed bath. People tell me that I have the best of both worlds-summer in Maine and winter in southern California. And I am aware of blessings always, but if it is true that home is where your heart is, I have a divided heart.
Especially on days like today when there is not such a stark difference in the two places. It feels like January here and I am sure it definitely feels like winter in Maine.
If I close my eyes, I can tell how it is at the Maine house- the rumble of the ancient furnace moving like a tired beast in the basement, the scraping of shovels and the whirr of snow blowers in the neighborhood. I can see the children sledding down the hill and the steam of breath and wood smoke coming from chimneys. I can feel the bite of wind as it hits my toes and cheeks and tips of my ears. It is not hard to imagine any of that because it was a part of most years of my life. The wintering in the warmth is new- only the past few years. The juggling of the two lives is out of necessity for health and economic reasons. It is hard to be torn at times. Things in the Maine house would be welcomed here and things here belong in Maine. I miss my Maine people when I am here and my California people when i am in Maine. But I am becoming more patient. I am filled with gratitude for this life, this divided heart, this January day.
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