For the second year in a row, the wind blew us onto Nantucket as we were chased by another East Coast storm. Driving through New England to Mystic, we were shrouded in fog, and when I picked up our tickets at the ferry office, the station master was fielding call after call about canceled boats. "Today is beautiful," he said. "Tomorrow is tomorrow."
Wednesday was blustery and cold with rain that ranged from drizzle to sheets. We hunkered down. We baked. We prepped for dinner. The kids went a little stir crazy. Mine did at least. Thankfully (see what I did there?) Thursday dawned sunny and cold so we could all get out. There was the Cold Turkey Plunge. There was dinner. There were walks on the moors for restless youngsters. We ate and drank. We sat in front of the fire. We read the paper. We talked and didn't talk. Cal learned how to play chess. Cal had been saying all along that his favorite part of going to Nantucket was how many stars you see, and finally on Friday the clouds cleared to showcase a starry sky. All the little things that add up to feel like family and home, and every time we go, I'm reminded anew of how easy it is to be with our friends. How comfortable and familiar. How right.
When I re-read the post I wrote about Nantucket last year, I was struck by how familiar everything felt. And how good that felt. That particular joy you feel in going back someplace beloved to be with beloved people. It was the beloved people that got me this time. Quiet morning talks. Sharing a bottle of wine. Watching our kids wander off together. There's a reason they call it "Friendsgiving" and this is it.