At the Cabin

It's a shock to feel as if I have been hit by the sudden fact that it isn't only me that's moving away, something I can control, can always know when I'll be visiting friends again, but also the people I have grown to accept as always being around, always being there, will too, move away, and find new adventures on greater, larger, and expanding coast lines. As this week goes on, more of my friends update their Facebook statuses and with their new location, or post photos of their new dorm room home.

It came when I saw one of my good friends on the island only last Friday, and I was so absorbed in running from errand to errand as well as finding time for a quick coffee with mum before heading to a friends, worried about seeing her before she left to university as well, that I didn't even think that just that evening, he would be flying across the country for a semester in university. And I'm sure he's not the only person I've missed while I've been so wrapped up in my own move. 

After last weekend, we packed a little more and filled an entire row of boxes to be kept, and to be given away, but I also took a few days off to spend a couple of nights at my friends cabin, a place I have visited with her family for years, and a place where it is easy to forget everything else, and just enjoy the sound of the waves on the beach, or the numerous trips in the rowboat in hope of pulling up a big crab from the trap out in the bay.  

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