Unexpected twist

So much for chilling. My son called a little while ago to ask where the homeopathic flu remedy is. Of course I have it here, and he is at his father’s. I said I would bring it by in the morning, but then realized that by then he might feel really lousy. So I called back and said I’d bring it over.

The rain and fog along the highway put me in a pensive mood. Upon arrival I found an envelope addressed to me — with no return address. It was a death notice from someone who had quite an impact on my life. She wrote her own obituary, which really got to me. It was a long time coming — she suffered and fought her illness for many years. She was one tough cookie.

I brought the medicine upstairs and instructed my husband as to dosage, and then I left. This is the hard part of separation — I would have preferred to stay and watch over my son, but it wasn’t appropriate.

So I drove back home again. Then I read the note again quietly. She had written it in the third person. The last line was: [She] “bids you farewell in deeply felt gratitude for your friendship!” That’s life, too.

Sunday afternoon

I’m alone again. A good friend of mine spent the weekend here. She arrived on Friday around noon. It was a beautiful, warm, sunny day. The day before I had picked a Goddess card: Sulis. Her message: “Spend time near water to recharge your batteries.” So I was delighted when my friend asked that we go to the great Lake Constance.

We walked along the promenade, admiring the sparkling blue water, went to a Chinese restaurant for lunch, then walked some more. There was a pool/beach area nearby, but I suggested we take a drive further along the lake to a Point, where I frequently went with the children when they were younger. So that’s what we did.

That area is natural and undeveloped — a smooth rocky beach, trees, grass, and quiet. There were more people there than there used to be, but perhaps because the weather has been so changeable, more people took advantage of the beautiful day. Still, it wasn’t crowded. There was no dressing room, and as I changed in my towel, I felt as if I was a kid again, back at the lake of my childhood, behind the house. The water reminded me of it as well, and I felt an indescribable happiness. The water felt absolutely delicious against my skin. I suspect it combined with those old happy memories to make it a perfect experience.

We swam far out, then back again. The coolness of the refreshing water was delightful. It’s so much nicer than a pool! It’s fun to swim endlessly, and then turn around when you want to.

For quite some time, we lay on the beach, talking. Sometimes we were quiet and chose to enjoy the sound of the little waves washing up on the beach. Towards evening we went for a last swim. There were only a few people in the water. We swam further out this time. The sun’s rays were on the water. It wasn’t ready to set, but it was dipping low. As we swam back, I closed my eyes and surrendered to the complete physical sensation. At one point, the sun had switched shoulders. I opened my eyes and saw that I was swimming back out to the open sea!

That evening we walked to the pedestrian zone and sat at an outdoor café drinking pina coladas. It was a wonderful warm summer night.

Yesterday started off sunny with a few clouds. We drove to Monkey Mountain. There are around 200 Berber monkies from Marocco and Algeria that live there. They have a good chunk of land at their disposal, and the climate is similar, so they feel quite at home. Their natural habitat is being destroyed.

Late afternoon, just as we left the Mountain, it started to rain. We drove to a little town overlooking Lake Constance — on the shore we’d seen yesterday from the other side. It is built up on a hill, and the town is almost all pedestrian zone. Along the promenade, we found a nice place to have a late lunch outdoors, under the awning. We admired the clear blue-green water. There was something special about experiencing the lake from the other side and in completely different weather from the previous day. It was as if we were getting to know another aspect of the lake’s personality.

We walked under the umbrella through this charming town, then drove back to my little city. I hadn’t planned anything for the evening, but we looked in the papers and saw that “Public Enemies” was playing in town — in 20 minutes. So we walked briskly into the city and got there just in time. The film was not quite what I expected, but I liked it. Johnny Depp is a wonderful actor.

Afterwards, the city was in a hush. We walked along the wet streets, encountering no one on the way home. It fit the mood of the movie, which had left us in a state of quiet reflection.

This morning we had a leisurely breakfast, took a short walk, and then it was time for her to go. At the train station, she thanked me for the wonderful visit. I thanked her as well. It was a refreshing change of pace. She said she had enjoyed that we talked about so much, but also that we could be quiet. She had had time to reflect, to think about what we said, and had the feeling that it was a true exchange. Sometimes it seems that the words come hard and fast, but it’s more a space-filler than communication.

I’m glad she said that. Sometimes during the various drives, we fell silent. I hoped it didn’t bother her, but was not willing or able to fill the emptiness just to avoid silence. I like it. I need it. To communicate on such a level, silent pauses are necessary. I am grateful to have such a close and honest friend. It was a weekend of visiting and exchange, not at all about “entertaining”. We both took responsibility for what we did, both voiced suggestions, and truly relaxed and had fun. Ah!

I’m so excited!

Now that I’ve recuperated a bit from bidding my son adieu for 3 weeks, and I worked 10 hours today, I was sitting outside on the balcony with the cats, drinking a glass of wine, and it suddenly occurred to me: I am on vacation for a week! Yahoo!

Tomorrow I can straighten up and pack, and then Tuesday I’m off on an adventure. I’ll take the train to Prague, where I reserved a room in a hotel for two nights. That gives me a chance to wander around the city, and Wednesday night Patti Smith is playing a concert. My “concert friend” will arrive the day of the concert, so we can spend the afternoon together. I met him at a Patti Smith concert 11 years ago. Since then, we’ve been to two Bob Dylan concerts and several Patti Smith concerts — and had our share of adventure along the way.

The day after the concert I get back on the train and head to Salzburg for one night to visit a good friend. Then I’m off to Vienna to visit another friend and spend the night there. Then I head to Styria for two nights for a garden party at another friend’s house. I look forward to good company and new impressions.

My husband will keep an eye on my daughter, and I’m sure all will go well. It is strange, though. Since I moved, I am so happy to be home. It’s hard to go out. In the past, my trips were a combination of excitement and escape. I was utterly relieved to get out of the house for any length of time.

Now it’s a real vacation, and yet I will look forward to coming home again. I am filled with gratitude at how the quality of my life has changed over the past couple of months. It is amazing how quickly things can change — in this case, definitely for the better. Thought I have an irregular work schedule and days off in between, the idea of being away for an entire week thrills me.

Funny, too, that I am willing to be content attending only one Patti Smith concert. She is playing four concerts this week, and they are not so far apart. But I already had plans, and I will stick to those plans. If this had happened a year ago, I’d probably be yearning to go to all four concerts. But now I am happy with my life, look forward to visiting with friends, and that’s how it is.

I am grateful for this life. Grateful to have come so far, to have recovered, and to be able to enjoy what life has to offer. Thank you higher power!