Collegeville, revisited

I’m having a little night cap of fruit juice and trail mix (the gourmet kind with cashews instead of just peanuts, but with too few m&m’s. The sky is still light out, though it’s 9:45 here, and the lake is silent and still except when the breeze sweeps across it. I’m in the farthest apartment at the end, right on the lake, down the hill from where I was last summer. I have the apartment all to myself, and though I dearly miss my sweet and talkative family, the quiet is delicious. I want to swim in it.

The day was a long one, with a full 10 hours of travel. But despite the chaos at the airport this morning when the flight ahead of mine was canceled, everything was on time. I read a little, napped a little, wrote some thank you notes (the last piece of church work I’ll do until I get home…), and listened to some NPR podcasts. I got to the Institute just before dinner, which was full of conversation with new and old friends. Introductions and a walk around camps followed, and now, things are quiet.

There’s hardly any program this week, just lots of warm hospitality and long stretches of uninterrupted time. I’m setting a goal: 5,000 words a day; 25,000 words by the end of the week – just stories on paper, or thoughts, or ideas. It doesn’t have to be pretty. That might be ambitious. We’ll see.

The mosquitoes are telling me it’s time to go inside, so I will head to bed and concede the porch to them, at least until morning.




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