Pamela Gibson

Our quick trip home is coming to an end and I discovered a few things. I’m healthy, my teeth are still good, and my friends still remember me. The house is still standing, but the pear tree in the front yard is dying and will have to go. We lost a pine earlier this year. … Read more

It seems strange to wake up in the morning and not feel the gentle sway of water underneath. Sun streams through the windows above my bed and around me is space…blessed space. We’re home, but the time is short. Mail, most of it junk, has been reviewed. Doctors have been visited and prescriptions filled. Visiting … Read more

You’ve heard this before, but I’m trying to get a handle on it, so here I go again.  Soul-searching is not something I do often. I’m more of a roll-with-whatever–life- brings-you person who adapts. Because old fears are still alive and well in my psyche, I’ve lately tried to voice them and analyze them—hoping  they’ll … Read more

Last time I checked in we were tied to a dock in Charleston, waiting for weather to clear, having finished a quarter of our trip. Today we’re tied to a dock in Brewerton, New York, a town on the Erie Canal west of Lake Oneida. It’s time to update the scoreboard. Our little boat has … Read more

It seems we’ve been stuck in places more often on this trip than the last, mostly because of uncooperative weather. Or maybe we’ve learned that being comfortable is better than making haste. Eight years ago we left the boat to fly home three times in six months. We booked ahead and had a schedule to … Read more