Bags packed, car arrives at 18:30, so cold I don't even feel like swimming, just hanging out with my mom, sewing my beloved old white Brooks Brothers shirt that my husband discarded before he was my husband.
A little soundtrack to play along with this post:
Top shot is my cousin Adam and his wife Ann's daughter, Aili, who is five. I met her for the first time this summer - the last time we saw them, in London, Aili and Oliver weren't yet born - and now that they're back home on the West Coast, I miss them so much.
Family: it really matters. Meeting these charming, well behaved children - our cousins, our family - seeing myself, my mom, my uncle, (who died suddenly and tragically, years ago, shown above with my mom) in their eyes.. they make me wish we had children.
There was a moment, during my mom's birthday weekend, when she was telling the children - cousins who had met and bonded within minutes - about their great grandmother, her mom, who died two weeks after I was born. Then she told them about my Grandpa - their great grandfather. They were SPELLBOUND. (These are my parents, above, shortly after they were married. It is the only time I saw photos of my dad with a roll on his waist: he was always so fit, swam and played tennis and ran, but he said when they first got married, he was so blissed out he got 'fat').
A few days later, I was walking back from the pool on a glorious sunshiney day - you know the kind, when it feels like summer will last forever - and I had this sudden thought: one day, I won't be here. I wonder if one of them will tell some as yet unborn child about me. I hope so. I hope they will remember me, as I remember my family in my heart. I wish my father, and my grandparents, were there to celebrate with us, but they were. They so were.
I really hate to leave - one of my homes away from home - and as I do, I make my wish that I will come back. This was the most perfect holiday, ever. And oh, by the way, this is me.