Kearsarge Mountain

We are back in Andover. The house is almost empty.

I know I will miss "my mountain" as I call it. I have a beautiful view of Kearsarge from my bedroom window.

Every morning I look out and see the mist behind the ridge across the street. I love seeing the smoke coming from the chimney of the old farmhouse where my kids grew up. I feel the warmth from my side of the street.

We still have our pellet stove cranking and it heats the house nicely on those crip fall mornings.

Our new home in Newburyport is comfortable, convenient and entertaining.

Every morning we take the dogs for a walk down by the river and up towards Joppa Park. I can only walk a short distance before having to stop and rest on the park bench.

The years of moving heavy furniture, carrying children on my hip and "I'll do it even if it kills me" has caught up with me. Pain is an old friend, never far away.

The sailboats in the water painted a pretty picture all summer. Now the waters are devoid of any boats. The promise of winter bites into our faces as the wind blows off the water.

Time is getting shorter. We are anxious to be done with this part of our lives.

A new chapter, new faces and new opportunities await.

Farewell my mountain.