When we arrived at the airport this evening to drop my mom off, the check-in desk was closed. Since the sign on it said it would still be closed for an hour yet, we all piled back in the car and went to Pix Patisserie and had coffee and macarons.
I know you can’t really stretch time, but it was almost like we could. Just for an hour, the flower unbloomed.
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Writing from: my suddenly-empty study. Listening to: “The Nearness of You” by Bill Charlap.
Today’s photo is yet another beautiful specimen from Rose City, which is certainly living up to the nickname this week. Before my dad and I said goodbye tonight, we took one last wander around the neighborhood and stopped to smell the roses.
I had a whole rumination on our far-flung lives and how relieved I am to be at least on the same continent as my own family again … but my iPad ate it. For all my iPad appreciation, I still have not figured out how to use it to post here without losing text. Any tips from those of you posting to WordPress with your own tablets?
Writing from: the living-room. Listening to: the latest episode of “The Catch”. I can’t decide if I like it or not.
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The bed is a borrowed raft, adrift in the empty flat. FunkyPlaid and Zen and I are left, cosy and drowsy in each other’s company. Strange how it even smells emptier. I am thinking of the other leave-taking in this matched set, and how melancholy I felt. This way feels bittersweet as well, for all we are leaving behind, but there is undeniable relief woven through it: we accomplished what we set out to do. (And more. And less. And so we’ll return.)
Zen has already moved on. The raft was always just a bed to her, and her fireplace is waiting.
Writing from: a still-furnished bedroom in Edinburgh. Listening to: the slow ping of the radiator.
This is another one of those topics that, as a younger person, I would have called a “no duh”. Of course I am grateful for my family! Through luck I am related to a whole bunch of terrific people, especially my parents. (Neither one likes being in photographs, or I would post them here.) I owe much of who I am to my parents; without their influence, support, and genetics, I (or at least the “I” I know of as myself) would not exist.
My parents are very different people, but they have some key similiarities. Both are extremely intelligent, charming, and interesting. Both are college professors. Both are good advisors and listeners. And, despite friction between us at times, both have committed to having mature relationships with me. I simply would not want anyone else as my mom and dad.
Fortunately, I am an only child, so I never have to share them!
(This entry is part of one month of gratitude.)