09/07/09 "Calm, calm," the voice came over the my Blackberry. It was Shirley, as usual thinking of others before herself . She is so hopeful that this trip will bring me some peace and distance from all the pain I have endured since Clint died. Today has been a calm one. It's cold up here in NH, and I'm equipped for it wardrobe-wise. (Except for Clint's red cashmere sweater). About 10 this AM, after the others left for a canoeing trip, I dressed as warmly as I could, but was still cold. So, I got back in bed (fully clothed) to work on the scarf from hell. In what seemed like minutes later, I woke to find it was 3PM. The canoeists didn't arrive home until about 7, and I began to worry about them. None of them answered his cell phone and I got cranky as well as worried. The girls left phones here, and Chad's was wrapped up on one of those waterproof containers you buy at sporting goods stores. It was actually wrapped up in the one that John had given me and I had passed along to Chad. They couldn't stop talking about what a great day they had, and that made me very happy. I have thought about Clint often since arriving here. I feel as though there is something about this distance from home, as well as the drastic climate change that is good for me. I miss him, but I don't have to look at his things every day. I not sure that makes any sense. He's just as dead here as he is there. For however it lasts, I am having a period of sadness that seems less toxic, less hurtful than before. I have not cried once today.