Jul 31 2009
I got home from Boston a few hours ago.
The logistics of this whole transformation are overwhelming enough, but the heartbreak I’ve started to feel at the goodbyes is hardest to manage. I was homesick in Vermont, and I’m even more homesick since I got home, in anticipation of the Real Thing that’s just around the corner now.
A couple weeks ago I got to spend a lovely 24 hours with my friend M. As the last hours fled by I felt the gloom roll in. When I hugged him goodbye, I went into teary meltdown. Guys don’t seem to get that. I had a hard time thinking this was the last time I’d see him for a year. He was probably thinking about what to cook for dinner.
As I drove off toward the freeway I looked like one of those illustrated women on the cover of True Confessions, with welled-up eyes hiding behind splayed fingers.
Back to the present, these past four days in Vermont have been agonizing, in limbo between a screwed up past and an inexplicable future. My mantra: What was I thinking.
On my way back to Boston my old friend Yinyer and I had a wonderful visit, even though she got a deer tick on our walk through the woods. I met her kids who are, not surprisingly, delightful characters at 18 and 20. I heard about last year’s ice storm in northern Massachusetts. Several times. She is very, very funny. She and my sister are really close friends, and the two of them together are hysterical.
We used to sign our names exactly alike, but time has changed all that.
Can you guess which signature is mine?
- The first one (40%, 2 Votes)
- The second one (60%, 3 Votes)
Total Voters: 5
Here are a few pix of Yinyer and Yinna, taken by a tolerant David.
In that last picture, I turned to look at Ginger and found her puckered lips just millimeters from my face.
Just before I drove off, I documented a scene of domestic bliss.