I got a little weepy with C. when I left for the el train to the airport (E. was taking a nap, thankfully, or it might have been a lot harder to leave), but once I was on my way, I did a lot better.

I rediscovered traveling alone. It's so easy! All I need is a book and an mp3 player, and I can entertain myself for hours. I only had a small bag and a suitcase, no other equipment to lug. I felt as light as a feather.

Hours later, I was in Seattle, taking the ferry to Vashon Island. Once on the ferry, I called C. to tell him I had made it. Again, I got weepy when he said, "We miss you." I had to tell him to stop, that he was making me too sad!

The first night, I stayed with J. and her family. They had the best guest room! It had a comfy bed, a nice view, and an adjoining bathroom with a shower all to myself. Ahhh! What a great way to start my vacation.

The next morning, J., her son F. (who is almost exactly E.'s age), and I made our way to the retreat. It was beautiful! There was a kitchen building, three cabins with camp beds, a yurt where the kids could play, a bath house with a hot tub and steam room, hiking paths, meadow, and more. My favorite thing was the big hammock, placed in a secluded spot on one of the porches.

The other mamas, with and without children, trickled in throughout the day. It was awesome to see these women in person after such a long time knowing many of them only online. I had met a few before, but this time around I got to really know them over the three days. It was so nice to sit and talk about anything and everything--really!--with them. When I expressed sadness over missing my family, everyone understood. When we shared our birth stories, we commiserated with each other. We helped with caring for the kids, we cooked and cleaned for each other, we ate good food and we drank. And drank some more, heh. At night, we sat around the fire pit and stretched out in the grass, watching the stars turn and whirl around over our heads.

I should mention the beach trip on Saturday. When the local mamas talked of planning a trip to the beach to meet some of the other local mamas, I pictured, well, a beach. You know, sand, sun, water, swimming, sunscreen. But when we arrived, I realized how naive I was! The beach was cold and covered with rocks, driftwood, and seaweed. It was pretty, but it was not the kind of place where you spread out a towel, don your bikini (or in my case, one-piece), and put on your sunglasses. You keep your clothes and shoes on on those Northwestern beaches! It was still cool though--I saw lots of things I've never seen before, like anemones (or however you spell that) that spit water when you touch them, and clams dug out of the watery sand. We also saw two eagles, dipping and wheeling around as if they were putting on a show for us.

When I woke up on the first and second mornings, I did a mental countdown of how many days 'til I could see my guys again. But by the third night, I was starting to feel sad that it was almost over. I realized just how rare and wonderful this gathering had been for me. Who knows if I'll ever get to do this again? And alone? And oh, how I needed time on my own. Even though I missed C. and E., the time away was so necessary.

The night before I flew back home, I stayed with D. and her family. She and her husband rent a house on some farm land on the island. D. showed me her chickens, and then brought me around to see the landlord's mules and sheep. The mules looked exactly like small horses, rather than donkeys. As a city dweller, it's always fun for me to see animals other than dogs, cats, and squirrels. I could definitely see the allure of living such a life, among animals. She's a vet, so it's her work, too. It was inspiring to see how much she truly cares about an understands animals.

Early the next morning, I packed up to fly back. D. made me a little breakfast to take along: two plums in a ziplock baggie, a little yogurt, a cup of coffee. I was touched at the kindly gesture. She took me to the ferry, and off I went. A bus, a plane, an el train, and a short walk later, I was within sight of my little boy running towards me down the sidewalk, saying, "Ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma-ma," until he was in my arms.

C. had planned the homecoming. He had written, "Welcome Home Mama" on the front steps with chalk, and he and E. had bought flowers for me. C. explained that he had also bought a balloon that said, "Welcome Home!" but while E. was holding it on the walk back to the house, the balloon came loose from the ribbon and floated away. Oh well. Balloon, schmalloon. I was just overjoyed to be home.

I will never forget my trip. It was everything I hoped for and more.