In Transition

 

The days between Being (Any) There and Being (Any) Here are transitional days--not There anymore, and not entirely Here yet.

Day called ten days ago  to ask me to come be with her through the effects of another kind of transition, and I flew there the next day.  It was a sweet ten days that made me imagine the olden days--when transitions for girls and women were celebrated by elder women in the tribe.  In the hurried days of modern life, families geographically scattered, we need more space and time to name the transitions of our lives with the people we love.  As a mother of a mother, I felt honored to be invited to share that space with her. 

Tom returned from his Portugal trip with COVID, though we thought at first it was a reaction to Thai food.  The next day he began coughing and spent the rest of the time in the basement, sleeping on the sofa and watching TV.  We said good-bye this morning from the top of the stairs to the basement.

He spent 27 hours in and near the Newark airport, a brace on the leg with the broken foot, on crutches.  But he arrived at midnight with his signature Tom Smile and passed out presents and souvenirs.  

Day taught me how to use a compass to make and then paint

mandalas, and she explained the concept of 

"sacred geometry"  she's studying.

It's fascinating.  I may tell you more about it later. 

Last night we drove to get Greek food.  From the back porch where we ate it, we could hear Greek music from a nearby apartment patio. 

And now, thanks to no delays, no weather issues, I am suddenly back in Texas, way cooler than when I left it.  Luci and I are reunited, but she seems to miss all the activity of dogs and family life.

Maybe I'm projecting.  I'm happy to be with her, but I miss Day and Tom and Tucker.