The bags are (mostly) packed. Tomorrow we head down I-5 and to Seattle. On Tuesday, we leave for Mexico. The human side of Planet Earth feels kind of unsettled, with a stubborn streak of mean. At least that’s the world the news tells me about. The irony is that this culture of fear just lights the fire of our desire to wander.

Rufous and Steve doing yoga.

Jack looking for whales.

There has been angst in our preparations. There are three dogs within our family—Big Jack, Happy Rufous (Elena’s) and The Lady Tickla (Mariya’s). Getting them sorted out and taken care of has taken a lot of time and care and worrying. Everything about dogs spells the comfort of home– the wagging tails, the playful wrestles, the vigorous walks around the property. Their sighs of contentment signal all is well. My heart usually sighs the same with contentment at the end of the day.

But now, we make plans to leave. We want Mexico. We want that warmth and that non-American mindset. We want to be reminded that we are travelers, as we have been since before Steve and I met each other. Our relationship can always count on the remarkable truth that, at the end of the day, we will be sitting on the same virtual bus-stop, waiting and eager to be taken out into the largesse of the world. In our living room, we are contented and we are restless. We don’t want change this. We just need to attend to the two halves of our souls.

New solar panels on the house.

Looking out our front room.

So we kiss the dogs tenderly and tell them to be good to the housesitter. We attend diligently to the many details and the annoying and agonizing tasks of getting ready to go. And tomorrow, we will turn our faces to a foreign but familiar horizon and go see what the world is doing.

Exit Glacier, Seward, Alaska

As for a health update, there isn’t much. Still cancer and CMV free. That’s the main thing. I still have my moments, when suddenly—in the middle of the night, I will lose my lunch. There are still times when I don’t have the energy to do much of anything. I am still more introverted than I used to be before the tangle of cancer and its aftermath. I enjoy getting out and doing things but I always need to rest to balance it. If I don’t protect the chi, it will unravel my plans. I am bringing a large apothecary with me, full of supplements and vitamins to keep me strong. However, in the past, Mexico has always healed me within days of my arrival. When I was working, it wasn’t unusual to arrive very exhausted and stressed. The warmth and elemental lifestyle of being outdoors and walking everywhere was always miraculous in its effect. I hope for this. I’m quite aware of the possible dangers, but I am not ready to have this fear rule my life. Mexico is a place for simplifying, for creativity over entertainment, for exploring another culture and for the unadulterated absorption with beauty.

The dahlias wouldn’t quit.

Those beautiful fall colors are gone. This year it seems the “season mixing” was very strong. Summer bled into fall and then autumn itself carried spring into many days. The grass grew in October. We had April in November. But now… well, now it’s definitely almost December. The days are short. Time to go south says my body. We are migratory birds here.

The wedding in Homer.

Matanuska Glacier, Alaska.

With softness, we leave behind this sweet island, doggie family and our dear community. Fingers crossed and God willing, we’ll be back in two months. We will think of you often. The daughters and Steve and I will be together over the holidays. We will go visit special cousins in Mexico City for Christmas—a trip we’d planned last year but couldn’t complete due to my fragile health. We’ll help our coastal friends build back from Hurricane Patricia. Hasta pronto! See you soon.