staying in touch

Dear Friends,Hope its okay if I still call, and think of you, past guests, as friends. As I venture out and away from my role of innkeeper, it's a little different now. I used to write when the finca had a special room rate in November, or I was looking for work-trade help with a project. I could easily weave my missive around newsy bits that might be of interest to you; a new solar system, or cat... whatever.The "news" here, (far away from Vieques in my new little house in Port Townsend, Washington), is big -- for me -- but isn't very new. (Apologies, if you follow finca caribe in FB, you've likely read all this). To be honest, I started to write a few months ago, but it sat here waiting for me to finish: Feb 1. The contract for my book is sitting here in front of me -- like it's real or something. It tells me my memoir -- the story of the finca is going to be published by Trinity University Press in the Spring. 2020. Boom. I like the sound of  it. 2020 Like seeing clearly. Bright-eyed and focused. I'll be ready. I wasn't sure what else to say; or if it was too little, too late to connect with you. I was afraid, after losing the finca, that I have to let go, and lose you too. Honestly, letting go of the network of finca friends made over those twenty-some-odd ;) years, might be the last thing about that place I can at least hope I still have. Can I somehow keep the magic of the place, the back deck, and the connection with you, alive?  Not sure an author's bloggy newsletter once or twice a year will do it. Maybe you will come visit the Olympic Peninsula. I am getting ready to list my cabin for farm stays on Marrowstone Island or maybe even the bottom half of my duplex here in Port Townsend, next year. Funny how many folks say its wooden deck looking out over Admiralty Inlet reminds them of the finca. :) la finca del norte. Fun to think about how, or if, one could pull that off. But for now, y'all are welcome to come by, sit on the deck and at least say hello -- if you're ever out this way.Hopefully the book will help keep us connected. Who knows if I tour around with it, I might be coming to a book store near you. Being an illustrated, photographic, annotated sort of endeavor, I am still, a year and a half after Hurricane Maria, possibly more connected than want to be. As I sit here in my little studio, drawing, painting, collaging the past into the book, I am joined at the cosmic hip to the old place -- on a daily basis. Anyone who has experienced loss, through death or divorce, hurricane, or anything else, knows the sharp pain of going through the photos. And that's what I have to do. The photos, the sketch books, the journals. Culling out the best snippets of each to include. For hours on end, and usually alone, I sift through the beauty and uniqueness of that special place. It is hard. Let's face it. I was the lucky Captain of a beautiful, now sunk ship. Still trying to figure out who I am, and will be, without it. The book has become something of a life raft. Keeping me afloat, until I know.Don't get me wrong. I am not still in the depths of despair, or overlooking for a minute, the MIRACLE that a press, like Trinity has given me this opportunity. They must see something in me, and/or the finca story, worthy of taking to a larger audience. I am excited -- and grateful to them, and for the odd coincidence that being a graphic book, this cathartic process is taking place. By saying it's hard. I'm just honoring it. "Going to the pain", as my mom would say when we hurt ourselves, will make the pain go away. "You will own it, instead of it owning you."  That's what I'm aiming for. I'm ready to lose it. But not you!... not if I can help it. Hope we stay connected, and hope you are well. My best from here, corky