Cool wind on my face as I step off the porch. Fall leaves swirl all around me. Deep breath. And a smile. What a difference one year makes. And so it begins.

This is what I tweeted/facebooked when I walked out of the door first thing this morning. It was a wonderful feeling. At the moment, I’m attempting to organize my six days of writing. Of retreat. It’s funny, that word: retreat. When the military use it, it’s a bad thing, but when an artist or a writer or just a vacationer uses it, it’s a special occasion, a special time to rejuvenate, to reinvent, to be reborn in something else, someone else. The English language is a funny thing.

So begins my retreat. Or whatever it is. I still can’t pinpoint what I’m doing. I just know that I miss my writer’s conferences. I miss the creativity that fills me from my friends. I miss the poking and the petting that I need, but am so afraid to ask for. I miss the feeling; a feeling. I miss Wales. Actually, that’s not true.

I long for Wales. In the Fall, the hiraeth is strong, so strong. I even enjoy when my friend E talks down about his hometown near Bangor because then I can extol its virtues and the top one hundred reasons why he should also love it too. I know deep down he does, but it’s his hometown and he knows all of its intrincasies, which are boring and sheep filled.

Last year, I went to Denver and got some of this. Plotting a trip for spring perhaps, but this year, I can barely afford to go to Starbucks, but I need something. Not want.

NEED.

I’ve decided to give it to myself. I still have appointments. I still have bills. I still have family obligations, but I’m spreading MY TIME out among the next two weeks and if I can manage my goals, you will be hearing about most of it (some of you more than others), and at the end of the two weeks, I’m hoping to have a foundation for the next year to carry me through with more goals and successes and growiing and journeying down this path; this seemingly new path that has always been a thread in my subconscious that I’ve followed haphazardly.

I’ve planned the family’s menu for this week and done the grocery shopping this morning after Mass. About fifty dollars. I may or may not be home for dinner, and my husband and teenage son will be in charge of cooking. I’ve packed the freezer with waffles for breakfast and I’ve promised not to leave before all the kids get on their buses.

I have also, believe it or not, labeled all the boxes and wrappings of the food with the day of the week that they’re supposed to be eaten on. I thought my husband would be insulted that I did that, but it thanked me. Hopefully, our daughter will stay away from the cheese until after grilled cheese night!

So meals are planned.

Shopping is done.

There will be a lot of introspection and reflection and the things I’ve lost and the ones I’ve found in the last year, but especially in the last ten months, and always harking back to the good and the lessons learned and who I am today rather than who I never was.

Today, I’m at the library in a quiet corner by the window. There is a waterfall, and a frog and trees of just the right color and height (that’s a joke – if you’re reading this in the future, Google: Romney, Election 2012, it might still be amusing).

Today, I organize and plan and prepare. There will be index cards and workshop homework and creating a new blog and a dedicated Facebook page.

I will get back on track for my self-imposed assignments and all the while, not so much finding myself as becoming myself.