The final countdown, with fare-thee-wells flying like dandruff:
On the 22nd I spent the day and night with someone important to me, and during our goodbye I was wounded by how casual and final his farewell seemed. Goodbye #1. Bad start: broken heart.
Next day I had a visit with TJ and Richard (goodbyes 2 and 3, sodden with tears) and a lovely time with the Browns in Nevada City. (You guys don’t mind me naming you, do you?) They have a lovely hand-built-by-Jesse house surrounded by yellow pines, with a wraparound deck perfect for summer-evening guitar-picking by Jesse, food-savoring courtesy of Syd, and fawn-watching courtesy of the shiteload of does that call the place home.
And then I stayed up till 2:30 a.m. with a person a third my age, my beloved Hilary whom I’ve known since she was one. We talked girl talk and laughed a whole lot, long after her wise parents had retired.
So that was goodbyes 4 through 6.
On my way back into town on Monday I bought Lulu a car. In light of recent events, it was a necessity. I met the most wonderful man at the used car dealership. —I need to buy a car for my daughter because I’m moving across the country the day after tomorrow, I told him. —Don’t go, he pleaded.
I put that engine picture there for my guy friends. Lulu drove a Civic and a Volvo-something and a Toyota Matrix. She picked the last (see above). It’s cute. It cost $10,500, not including tax & license. But I’m very happy she likes it and hope she uses it a lot.
Tuesday I brought Anna and Lulu back to the used car lot to keep me company as I signed over my life.
Sunday through Tuesday Anna watched over my mental health like a … mental health professional, only much more effectively. She monitored my every sigh and tear and frown, and kept me from going crazy. She also fed me at regular intervals and made sure I drank enough water with my medicines.
We squeezed in other visits: Molly, Mitra, Dagny, Frank. That makes #s 7 through 12, not including miscellaneous, impromptu farewells. Below is a picture of Dagny pretending to pick her nose while Anna reads salon magazines. And a picture of Anna helping me pack, as she did before I went to Nepal. I wanted to curl up and go to sleep. She wouldn’t let me.
Tuesday night Lulu came to Anna’s to say goodbye. I can’t tell you how much I hurt. I kept touching her, just like I did when she was first born. That time, I’d been feeling her presence for so long in my belly that when she finally oozed out I couldn’t stop squeezing and stroking her arms and legs and little fat belly, just to make sure she was real. This was the reverse. I hugged and patted and cuddled, and then said goodbye.
I’m so homesick I could up and die.
I did not get to say goodbye to Cheryl or Markie or a bunch of others. And saying goodbye a second time to Yo-Nenny or Jason was too traumatic for us. How many goodbyes can a sentimental person take?
I flew to Philadelphia Wednesday.