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July 20th, Yes Meet Day 10
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I woke very early, restive over the
emotions the day would bring. I would have to take leave of these
friends to whom I'd grown unexpectedly and hopelessly close. I would
soon see my children again, be reclaimed by these little humans to
whom i belong wholeheartedly. To distract myself from the impending
tidal wave of tears of sorrow and joy, I did laundry and crept around
quietly packing up the van for my departure. I found a place in the
van to keep my painting of "Mountains" from Wendy safe on the way
home.
I phoned Yann and arranged to meet
him for a goodbye-over-breakfast. He just quaffed coffee, but I
ordered a full meal, in no hurry to have our last moments in close
proximity draw to an end. We couldn't muster much to say, however:
too much feeling obscuring clear words on my part, and Yann would
only ever get talkative after a bottle or two of wine. So I just
smiled at him, near to tears, and stacked up my empty cream
containers into a tiny pyramid.
At Wendy's. I had Curt set me up
with a sound in the keyboard room again and began playing, just to do
something constructive with my sentiment, until my family appeared in
the doorway. The moment arrived. I picked up my 4-year-old and held
him close, petting his head, while the other three children assembled
around me. I smiled to see my usually clean-shaven spouse sporting a
three-week beard. The tears were flowing, of
course. Jonhe, being more together than I, thought to shoot some
random videotape of the surrounding countenances, none of them
quite as simultaneously happy and sad as my own. Yann scanned the
faces of my kids, their mushed mugs making us laugh on Wendy's
computer. He was humming "Where Will You Be," in his stirring low
register. *Sigh* It was hard for me to stop staring at everyone and
hugging them and holding them. We lingered
languorously on the front lawn, saying goodbye.
yann, chris, curt
I admired the sporty red Isuzu Rodeo
my family had rented while I'd absconded with the green family van.
We had to return it in Reno, a three-hour drive away, late that
afternoon, so we didn't have much time to dally. Jonh and I said our
final farewells, divided the kids between us, piled into the two
vehicles and sped away.
we hear a sound
and alter our returning
we drift the
shadows and course our way back home
flying
home
going
home
I was glad in the end and still feel
privileged, really, to have been an agent in the overseeing of some
important, character-building, initiation rituals endured by Chris
and Yann. The disgust of pit toilets, dearth of water, 120-degree (F)
heat in Death Valley, the tinkle of nickels in slot machines, and a
first hotel/tent stay with a married woman are, I hope, experiences
the two of you will always remember with a fleeting, faraway feeling
for merry *me.* AND SO, Paul, Brad, Chris, Yann, Jeff, Bill, Derek,
Wendy, Curt, Dawn, Sandy, Darrel, David, I would like very much to
*thank* all of you for enduring my exuberance which often reached
it's enthusiastic heights due to the pleasure of being in the
presence of you all. Yann said he'd remember the spark in my eyes and
I said: YOU put it there! My love to all of you.
high the memory
carry on
while the
moments start to linger
sail away
amongst your dreams
the strength
regains us in between our time
my
merry tale ****
see
you later