Finding an original blog title takes effort. My “Fall to Pieces!” prompted Don to recall his grandfather yelling, “Save the Pieces!” whenever he heard a crash in the house (much better). But Patsy Cline knew a thing or two. The self that can be de-composed by love – falling, yes, but upward, into the ether of non-self – is to be longed for. As Don and I have dreamed, planned and prepared for every step of this Sabbatical together, we have “fallen” in love again and again. Today, though, I’m aware of the pieces that will fall away for me during these next six months, the rituals and routines that hem me in and keep me whole. Sundays begin with two cups of coffee and The New York Times, followed by a drive across town to masters swimming and 90 minutes of intense intervals with my buddies. I love pushing myself to the limit, but how tame and prescribed my “limits” have become! Things around me are changing all the time, with Meg, Josh, and Nick growing up and out, and parents meeting new obstacles with grit and courage. Routines aren’t bad – mine provide a stream of happiness in a life that too often feels stressful. But we’re about to throw the pieces in the air and let them rain down like confetti! We’ll save the beautiful ones – our incredible friends-like-family – but create a new mosaic. I got my home on my back (okay, + one carry-on) and no need to keep food in the fridge for the kids or grade papers. Hallelujah!