We made it to Chicago in a quick burst of a day. An overnight in Bergen (you can’t get a ferry down there earlier than noon, and with a flight taking off at ten–), a fifty-five minute run through Amsterdam. This morning I wake up in Chicago, the big city, the million voices, the land so flat and so oak-treed, it feels surprisingly like home. We’ll be here for a couple days, visiting a relative of my husband’s. Then the journey onward, this good Christmas pilgrimage. We’ll be on to Billings next, where one year and one day ago, I find now looking back, this blog began. I’d like to reflect, this year of blogging. This morning is not the time to do it. But soon.
I did a little writing on the plane, was able to complete my first revision of a scene that had for a week been troubling me unresolved. I’m hoping to get more done during these weeks away. I’m hoping for a peaceful set of good reunions.
With love, wheresoever in the world we all are,
Jimmy
Words like trees 
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