Any sailor will tell you there is a perceptible moment when the sea one is navigating shifts, becomes different, changes color or temperature, takes on a new attitude, soothes or threatens in some unforeseen way. A sea change is a time for re-evaluation, for examination and adjustment of one’s course.
Many of you have let me know that you have missed my ramblings here this past month. I thank you sincerely for that. I have been experiencing my own sea change. Or perhaps it’s more like an undertow.
Midway through March I could feel a slight difference in the air, but I couldn’t… or I wouldn’t name it. The inevitable was drawing near. A certain wistfulness infected my daily round. Looking back, I was trying to accept the idea that my time here is ending.
Yesterday – finally – I learned for certain that I must return to New York next month: my subtenant has found a home of his own.
Yesterday – finally – I let my Venetian landlord know he can begin seeking a new tenant for my apartment here.
Yesterday – finally – I began the serious and unpleasant business of packing up for my journey back.
Yesterday – finally – I bought my ticket for May 4th.
Still… I have no idea how to leave this place.
