Tuesday, January 10, 2012

Memories of Home

While we were up visiting my family in RI for a week this past December I had some real fun times. Let me tell you about shopping at the Outlet Stores in Wrentham MA with my mom.

To understand this fully you need to know that even in non-holiday seasons, these outlet stores are traps. By traps I mean, you get trapped in traffic starting on the highway off ramp, then trapped in the parking lot, then trapped driving endlessly looking for a parking spot. Then you get trapped in lines with other humans.

But my mother and I both share a common problem. We have impossible feet. Without getting too detailed here, lets say that it is difficulty to find a shoe that fits, looks reasonably well and doesn't cause excruciating pain in several steps.  There are a limited few choices of shoe manufacturers and these outlet stores have several stores within that group. So brave the traps we did.

There was no traffic....we had no trouble finding a parking spot, things we looking good.  The weather was ridiculously cold and windy but we sally forth anyway.  After acquiring a map (naturally) we were able to concentrate on each desired target. The stores were crowded and hot but mostly we were doing well. Until we realized that no, I repeat NO shoes were fitting.

We reach yet another store on our list, packed with woman carrying shoe boxes, husbands carrying purses and children sitting on the benches texting their luckier friends who weren't stuck there.  I find four shoes I think may work, plop down on a bench, strip off my coat, gloves, sneakers and socks..begin to try on some shoes..EPIC FAIL. One pair looked good but felt too tight so I grab my purse and barefoot dash over to the place I found them to get another size. I dash back to my coat, sneakers and other shoe boxes. An ogre of a woman is standing near my things, looming. I proceed to pick up my boxes and sit back down.

"Can I have my sneakers?!" The ogre demands

"Um..I don't know where your sneakers are, I'm sorry" I reply

"You have them! The sales girl left them on this bench!" Ogre slim hits me as it stands a little too close this time.

"No, these are my boxes. They were sitting here where I left them" I explain

Then the ogre proceeds to grab, in its fat sweaty hands, the box at the top of my pile I am holding on my lap. And she walks off to another bench.

Flabbergasted, I simply watch the drama unfold.

She takes off her huge shoe, which had small village children stuck in the tread, pops open my box, discovers my black heels and gets up brandishing her foot ware, storms over to me.

Meanwhile, I notice a massive orange box marked SNEAKERS sitting on the shelf next to me.

The ogre has reached me by now. I reach for my sword but realize I forgot to wear it, thinking I would not need it here at the outlet stores.

"Looking for those?" I ask and point to the gargantuan orange box

 It grunted in reply and grabbing the box, storms off in the other direction.

UNBELIEVABLE

Store number three and I was done! I had enough of this adventure.

Needless to say, neither my mother nor I purchased anything that day, though we tried valiantly. Heading back out to the car I realized again how many silver grey Camrys there are in this world. Too many to be exact.  We could not find the car. Laughing hysterically, and freezing nearly to death, we walked endlessly with me holding the unlock button high above my head like a beacon, pressing the button over and over again in an effort to locate the car. We could hear it but couldn't find it. Where ever it was though, it was definitely unlocked! And I feel certain that the car saw us the entire time. Finally we found it, fell into it and immediately someone was waiting to park in our spot. Leaving the parking lot, the line of cars entering was barely moving and endless. We had just escaped!

Never ever a dull moment when my mom and I decide to do something.

Back to Reality?

I ask it as a question because how "real" can my life be right now? If you stop and think about it, I live in the SOUTH OF FRANCE next to a Roman ruin that was a tomb and that is over 2,000 years old. I walk by it every single day. There I am, walking my dog in the morning, the air is crisp, the local homeless man bids my good morning (I think), the butcher shop opens for the delivery of half a cow, the joggers jostle past me and sea gulls laugh over my head...and I pass a 2,000 year old Roman tomb. Not even close to my reality.

Or is the unreal becoming my real? The abnormal my normal? The impossible becoming...you get the idea.

Driving into Nice last night over a road Napoleon built, I got to thinking about how adaptive humans can be if they allow themselves. I add that because I often feel myself hanging on with both hands to the past, refusing to adapt to the present. Shame, Shame, Shame.  Life can change on you so fast. It feels like minutes ago I was living with Anna in a loft apartment along the Blackstone River, in my next breath I was in a room off my parents' kitchen sleeping on a futon with Anna making mouth noises in the dark of night, curled up on her ratty corduroy pillow next to me. And then I blinked my eyes and I was living in Florida with Dennis listening to the calls of Sand Hill Cranes and alligators barking across the swamp behind our condo. And here I am, living in a flat with my mother-in-law with views of the sea. The Mediterranean Sea.

My reality used to be wearing scrubs everyday, eating lunch in 15 minutes so I could nap in my car under the shady trees of an industrial complex off highway 1. I make a full meal now for lunch and we often sip wine and finish with dessert. I work at my laptop sitting in front of a window that opens to the mountain peak above Monaco. I wash my clothes in something the size of a dishwasher and I have to turn the water heater on hours before I plan on taking a shower because washing the lunch dishes used up all the hot water. I walk my dog along an olive tree garden that holds hundreds of years of memories and I understand nothing that the passing people say.

What will my next breath bring?