In our new home, because of my desk’s situation, the morning sky’s light is different – I face south. The light is gentler – in our former home, I faced east in the morning — but I rarely sat at my desk; I enjoyed reading and writing on the screened porch, (weather permitting) an exposure also protected from the sun. So, the light feels somewhat familiar.
On either side of the desk are books, photos and tiny treasures, some that chronicle thirty-seven years together: some wedding gifts, many we collected. I added to the collection a Maryland memento. Saturday, while yard-sailing, (or, in Dallas, estate-yachting) I found a small Delft ginger jar, inscribed Maryland – interesting to speculate what the connection was.
Were they transplants, too?
Texas is full of transplants! Business people whose companies relocated; Latin American and African immigrants, university and medical students – quadruple the mix since Douglas left in the 1960's. Many folks here, when asked if they are natives, reply, “No, but I got here as quick as I could.” I genuinely like Texans – natives and transplants – everybody who have so graciously opened their hearts to us. But I have never been more aware of being a Marylander – even a Baltimorean, though most of my life I’ve spent in the Annapolis area! What’s that about? I wasn’t so conscious of that when I lived in DC.
Of course, this surprising tie to my provenance is like Doug’s. One evening as we walked, he remarked on the sunset – brilliant blue melting into orangery-purples – and I realized maybe he’d been missing the memory of how the sun looks – rising or setting.