I'll be heading out to the lakehouse this weekend with RocketMom and the boys. My wife's family often gathers at her grandparents' lakehouse to celebrate national holidays, most prominently American Independence Day. Since no one lives there year round any more, it's pretty much free for us to stay on as we like. It's about two hours or so from us, and more like 20 minutes from most of the family. We'll spend the week there, down a dirt lane, alongside a small lake, surrounded by trees and frogs (and mosquitos).
The place has a lot of meaning for us. A couple years ago when we joined the family, from our remote residence in southern California, we made a decision that we'd be happier nearer family, with access to such a beautiful and peaceful refuge. Until then, we had an inkling that we'd be moving on, to start over with a house and a home, but we weren't really sure where.
During the past year since we moved here, we've been there a few times, relaxing, rejuvenating. Returning from there a year ago was when I first heard of my selection to receive a first stage contract to support my research. Yesterday, I got a call from one of the mid-level administrators at the agency that will be funding my second stage, apologizing for the delays, and indicating that they are doing everything they can to expedite my transitional funding, which she expects to be in place before the holiday.
This is such a different world that surrounds me from the one I knew just a year or two ago. But I'm not sure I've much changed, except in regaining my confidence. It's as if I've been dressed in black, first hidden by the darkness of night, then emerging from a background of red, and finally in full relief against the white. My raiment has remained unchanged, but my appearance has become transformed.
I'm looking forward to this week, and to what comes after.