Thursday, February 5, 2015

Island in the Sky

After four amazing years of feeling the sand between my toes, it is time to get some dirt under my nails.  Instead of a rock in the middle of the ocean at 6 ft elevation, we are now on a rock in the middle of the desert at around 6,000 ft*.  It is an amazing place to live and we are surrounded by so much beauty.  However, my heart is at war with itself.  I have never been so happy and so sad at the same time.




Happy tears as I gaze at the beautiful mountains and rocky cliffs.  Sad tears when I remember the rolling waves crashing on the shore.  





My heart swells when the fire is crackling in our school room and the snow gently falls outside.  Yearning tears when I think of the balmy sea breeze afternoons spent at the beach or rocking my babies in the hammock.






Our Backyard





Giddy happiness when I go to the well-stocked store or the farm delivers fresh milk and produce on my doorstep.  Unexpected tears when I hold the coconuts at the store, with their little coconut faces. 






Excitement as I hit the slopes with my children or we go on a family hike in the mountains.  Lonely tears as I think about pedaling around the island and waving to friends I meet along the way.  

Santa Fe Resort

Boys Snowboarding


Rachel Skiing
















Rachel & Me

12,000 ft 

Hiking Tsankawi










Relief to not be sticky and hot and to have seasons again.  Bright fall leaves, crisp cool air, snowflakes and snow play.  More tears when I see the small pouch of sea glass I used for counting laps and remember my many ocean swims.  


Our yard
Jemez Mountains

Caleb & Josiah's Snow Cave




Gratitude for our beautiful house and anticipation for the soon-to-be garden and clucking hens.  Exhausted tears with all the cleaning, laundry, and not enough hours and energy in the day to get everything done without my helper.




Big, gigantic heart swells with family near and sweet visits.  Hidden tears when I am surrounded by people, but know they don't know me and feel alone remembering the beautiful friendships I left behind.  

Cousins at Overlook in White Rock
Picture by Christopher Talbot

Asher and Blue (David & Cami's Baby)
Picture taken by David Justice


An ache born of joy and sorrow when Asher sings and it sounds like the warble of Marshallese lullabies sung to him by his other mother.  


Picture by Cami or David Justice


It is hard to move on when your four year old often asks, "What island are we on?" and you feel the poignant disorientation, as well.  When she says, with the longing that I feel, "I want to go to my home on Kwajalein," the tears come and I want to shout "Me, too, baby girl!  Me, too."  Instead I hold her close, wipe our tears, and brush her hair from her face and tell her it will be all right and soon this will feel like home.  And sometimes I believe myself.

Picture by David Justice



Picture by David or Cami Justice



And sometimes I think it isn't too different here...

We still have beautiful sunsets and glorious open spaces.


Jemez Mountains

Camel Rock


Moonrise view from our house

Sunset from kitchen window



I can still do my sunrise yoga.

View from upstairs patio




And before it got too cold, I could almost pretend I was still on the island...


Asher napping on Kwajalein
Asher napping in New Mexico



And the sweetest balm of all, is that my family is with me where ever I go.

Photo by Cami Justice

Photo by Cami Justice



*For those wanting precision, we are living in White Rock, which is actually at 6500 ft and we spend a lot of time in Los Alamos, which is 7500 ft.