“You cannot swim for new horizons until you have courage to lose sight of the shore. ” ~ William Faulkner

This is our last week in our apartment and we agree that we’ll miss our view the most. For one full year, we’ve watched the sun move across the horizon. Dipping behind the Adirondacks, sliding up and down the mountain range, repositioning itself with the seasons. We’ve watched fleets of small sails practice their turns and kayakers paddle for the distant point. We’ve watched a violent lake lap at the soft, grassy shores. We’ve watched a calm lake lie like glass after a chilling day.

There is a tree outside our window that we love too. It’s one of the few giant elm trees remaining in our little city, which we have also grown accustom to watching. And now as we are moving out, a young family of raccoons have settled in to enjoy the view.

Looking out over the horizon always causes my mind to wander into the future. There are so many emotions attached to the simple realization that our gaze will soon fall upon a different and completely unknown vista. There is a slight twinge of angst that comes with purging your life of everything you own as you prepare to step out of a space called “home.” Yet, there is a tremendous fervor that blankets my fears and so I am comforted. I know I am more than ready to let go of this view and this way of life.