. . . Still, the image of a door is liminal,
passing from one place into another
one state to the other, boundaries

and promises and threats. Inside
to outside, light into dark, dark into
light, cold into warm, known into
strange, safe into terror, wind. . ."

~ Excerpt from “Doors opening, closing on us,” by Marge Piercy

We must go out early, and we are greeted by thick mist in motion on the River, smoking our view to Death Bridge. Before heading across the meadow to the River, I stopped at the grass by the deck and took photos of the wedding flowers I wrote about last night that are going to rot that I will soon move in one heap to the compost pile. I have promised the dogs a log ramble as I am leaving first thing for the airport to pick up two IWWG Guild Board colleagues and we’ll drive together to Wellfleet for our annual retreat. Charlie sulks beside my suitcase. Then I dash out the door. We are early to Wellfleet, the sun is hot and the sky and the Bay and the marsh are inviting me – I go out, I can’t help it. I take my time. I have learned the way around. I chose the Marge Piercy quote above, about doors, for so many reasons: Judy, our host and board chair shared it to open our retreat, because of the theme, and also because the poet is a neighbor. And I took the flower petal picture below next to the marsh as I passed the playwright Paula Vogel’s house. This is a rich land for women writers! As I walk through the marsh, I feel the heat and also the changing of the light, sun heading south, the equinox soon, and I feel a swish of melancholy and sentiment and longing: memory. Four years ago this September as I arrived at our Board Retreat, our first, I had just dropped my youngest at college. Now, she’s graduated. With her absence, I felt a freedom and joy and passion to devote time and energy to the board of the Guild. I take stock, on my walk, of all that has changed, of all that I’ve done, of all that WE’VE done. And I’m grateful for this powerful sisterhood, this chance to contribute to an organization that fuels and celebrates and supports and honors women writers. I walk through the grass, past the seabirds in sunshine, heading back to our host’s to begin the retreat with a wonderful sense of connection, not just to women writers. But to myself, as a writer, fully engaged with her own writing life. My own writing life every day.