Even though our thermostat has been set at 48 degrees for the past week and there were sad old dishes waiting for us in the sink, even though our goldfish Jim was barely alive and belly up in his bowl, and despite the rainy darkness pressing all around our lonely-looking house when we pulled up this evening, walking into this place felt like falling into a deep, warm embrace. We all heaved a satisfying, happy sigh of relief. Finally - home!
We spent many days at my mother's in Lancaster surrounded by beloved friends and neighbors. And do you know what? I wanted to go home. We all did. How strange! It seems we are finally shifting our center to this fledgling life we are slowly but surely building by the Bay. I know it is a good thing, but it still made me a little sad. Grief works in unusual ways, washing over you from unexpected directions when you least expect it.
Even so, it was a good week, full of simple pleasures.
We read books about trucks over and over.
With bated breath and an awed smile, Frances fed her new baby cousin Caiden.
Many girls drew lovely pictures during a dinner with neighbors.
Gabriel took pictures of me with his kaleidoscope at the farmer's market.
Frances gleefully discovered my charm necklace from 1987 on a "treasure hunt" through some neglected desk drawers. My old love of 7Up, baseball, and skiing came flooding back! (Not really.)
Onstage at the Fulton, after the show. Our dear friend is playwright in residence at the theater and gave us a memorable tour that included trying on Liesl's dress, climbing the set mountain, and wearing red clown noses in the actors' dressing rooms.
Happy new year, friends. May 2011 bring you happiness, health, and the peace that comes with being truly home.
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