After printing placecards, table numbers (who knew table numbers could be interesting?…but they were!), envelopes, and a few small cards, it’s been a busy little day, and it’s bedtime.

My sweet sister, Willa, is moving to Providence this week to be with the love of her life, after far too long apart. I’m unspeakably excited to have her so much closer, and it’s a healthy reminder that distance is an obstacle, but it’s not everything. For fear of delving into some sort of sleep deprived nonsense, I’ll leave you with a few words from someone wiser (and probably better rested) than I am.

In Timebends, Arthur Miller’s autobiography, he writes of the coyotes that were emerging in the forests of Connecticut, in the backyard of his home of more than 40 years:
“And so the coyotes are out there earnestly trying to arrange their lives to make more coyotes possible, not knowing that it is my forest, of course. And I am in this room from which I can sometimes look out at dusk and see them warily moving through the barren winter trees, and I am, I suppose, doing what they are doing, making myself possible and those who come after me. At such moments I do not know whose land this is that I own, or whose bed I sleep in. In the darkness out here they see my light and pause, muzzles lifted, wondering who I am and what I am doing here in this cabin under my light. I am a mystery to them until they tire of it and move on, but the truth, the first truth, probably, is that we are all connected, watching one another. Even the trees.”