(Prompted by artist Jane Kaufmann.)

• Acceptances for publication large and mostly small.
• When newcomers return to Quaker meeting.
• When meeting for worship settles into warm silence.
• Fires in wood-burning stoves.
• Truly fine pizzas.
• Wines and cheeses.
• Appearances by bald eagles and osprey, some of them over my yard.
• My wife’s Christmas traditions – especially the observation of Advent and the 12 days after.
• Retirement and the opportunities it’s opened.
• Viewing whales from shore here.
• Whale watch cruises, no matter what we wind up observing.
• A week’s windjammer cruise. Twice now.
• Great classical music performances, including opera.
• Part-singing in choirs, chamber choirs, and Mennonite circles.
• The renovation of our 1787 homestead.
• Small-town life in Eastport and Dover.
• Sunrises and sunsets.
• Riding big-city subways.
• Full solar eclipses and Northern Lights.
• The Greek Orthodox festival and community.
• Mount Rainier.
• The election of Barack Obama.

I have several pairs of identical thick wool socks – all gifted, by the way – that I’ve worn the majority of the time since moving Way Downeast, summer or winter. You can say I’m quite fond of them and their cushiony effect. But then, the other day, one pair finally wore out – under the heel in one and a toe in the other.

Emotionally? Oh well, it’s about time. Or, I definitely got my mileage out of them. Or, in response, I could elaborate on my belief in having multiple pairs of identical socks so that if one gives out, you’ll ultimately have a new match when one in another set gives way.

Instead, I was left facing a situation where that didn’t exactly fit my model. Or, what is that people say about if the shoe fits?

For me, this stage of winding down, or at least refocusing, includes recognizing realities of aging and finances while living in a remote area of the country. Here are some things I’d say are in my past, no matter how actively I pursued them:

1. Hiking to the top of a mountain.
2. Climbing a ladder more than a few steps.
3. Hearing a full symphony orchestra in person.
4. Ditto for attending an opera.
5. Peyote, psilocybin, or acid. Not this far after taking up meditation.
6. Some of the easier hatha yoga positions. Forget even attempting the harder ones.
7. Writing and revising another novel.
8. Sending out resumes.
9. Camping in a tent or out in the open under the stars.
10. Prolific orgasms.

Or so I keep muttering to myself when I realize I’ve lived here on an island in Maine longer than eight other locations in my zig-zag life’s journey. Somehow, looking back, those others feel more action-packed, dramatic, even influential while this one seems to have flowed by more gently and quickly and, yes, more pleasantly overall.

This, of course, is Eastport, my remote fishing village with a lively arts scene at the easternmost fringe of the continental United States.

The mere idea of writing from an island in Maine strikes me as pretentious, yet here I am, far further east than the others, and I am here year-round, whatever.

My habitations of shorter duration were all in my 20s and 30s, largely career moves one way or another and mostly taken as professional stepping stones to something higher, though the next move was rarely the one I anticipated. This, in contrast, is in my 70s, with any dreams of next steps largely evaporated. Rather, I’m savoring an awareness of culmination, even if the big successes I desired ultimately remain vaporous. Especially the bestseller rankings or critical approval or genius grant recognition remain vaporous.

Add to that the fact of time going faster the older you get, something I’ve previously remarked on here at the Barn.

Returning to the thought of residency, the three longer locations in my route were my native Dayton (20 years) before I set forth to other fields, and then, finally, slowing down again in New Hampshire, with 13 years in Manchester and 21 in Dover.

I’ve been attentive to what I have in all the turmoil.

What am I feeling? Even in my tangled nights? No matter I’m so gratefully married. Or getting so old.