Almost time to say goodbye

I must say, I am getting hardily sick of saying goodbye. It feels like its been a year full of farewells.  Some more heartbreaking and lasting then others. It has been six months since my dear friend Judy died and, as Dennis said this morning, it feels like so much longer. For me, time has flown by but it hasn't made the farewell to Judy any easier.  Its so true, some wounds no amount of time can heal.  I miss Judy and I think about her every day. She is among the list of people I miss back home that I stop and think about every single day.  With Judy I think of a fun memory like how I loved to make her laugh with a wild story or I still think "what would Judy do?" I know that it would be classier and better and lovelier than what I chose to do in that particular situation.  Judy always handled everything perfectly. She was flawless and effortless. If she knew I was saying this about her she would be so embarrassed and say "Oh Sarah, you have no idea...I am such a mess" But I knew the truth and so did everyone else who's life she touched...Judy was never close to a mess. She was elegant and kind, she had a great laugh a huge generous heart and a love of life and her family and people. Judy was a gift and I am still not ready to say goodbye. I am not ready to let go of even one second of one memory I have of her. I cannot except that she isn't back in her home with Richard and I can't just text her the minute I get back.  Her words still sound in my mind, her advice and kindness, her patience and love. She never stopped me, turned me away or shushed me. Judy believed in me, in my future happiness and in my ability to make a success of my life. She even sometimes succeeded in making a believer out of me.

A mere six months have gone by and life moves so fast. Here I am, back in France, facing the end of my visit and another goodbye. Yesterday we drove into Provence to visit vineyards and sample wine.  We had a jolly time eating and drinking along the way with Denise and cousin Bernard.

We stopped at a vineyard where 7 generations have worked there since 1813 and the current owner who gave us the tour, his grandfather was friends with Dennis' grandfather. We learned that the grape vine is a lot like a person. It can live for 75 or even 80 years but as it ages it produces less and less so they eventually must pull it out and plant new vines. They recently removed an area of vineyard that was over 75 years old.

The owner was very kind, explaining all about the different wines that they make and the flavors, even how the color of the wine comes about. He explained that the pulp of all the grapes are colorless or white but its the skin that gives wine its color. So with a blush or Rose' they allow the skin to remain for a short period during fermentation and then they remove it, so Rose' will be pink in color and stronger, bolder or more flavorful then white. With red of course, the skin stays on the longest giving it the darkest of color. With white? No skin left at all.

We of course enjoyed an exceptional meal along the road, stopping at a beef restaurant and I enjoyed some seriously good steak.



I won't mention what type of meat Bernard ate but lets just say it was from the unmentionable part of the cow.  UGH



So it is that I face my almost last night and soon Dennis will be driving me into Nice and off I'll fly, back to Florida and back to work.  I will have to say goodbye to Dennis then until he returns home to Florida on March 3rd. Goodbyes everywhere I turn.  At least with some of these goodbyes I won't have to wait for too long before I can say hello again.

When I grow up....

I want to be a writer. That is my dream. To spin a tail, to tell a story....a good story.  I love to read and since my mother taught me all those years ago, I thank her for this yet unfulfilled dream burning up my insides.

Local pork shop, by the beach

And here in France, along the coast of the Rivera, I hear the call to write even stronger.  There is something so romantic and novel about being here. Even among the modern life there are undeniable elements of old world lore and charm and thousands of stories lurking around every corner, just waiting to be told.

It has been raining out for the past few days but I have grown tired of being locked up in the house so twice I have dragged Dennis out into the wet weather to walk through the town with me and down to the water. Being here along the mountain side, everything is a walk down and a climb up.  When we headed out yesterday the sky was heavy and the clouds dark but off we went on my insistence. By the end of the stairs leading to the beach the rain had begun.  We ducked into a tiny restaurant where we sheltered, somewhat, from the storm brewing outside.  With coffee and a croissant to share, we watched the waves lashing against the shoreline.  How strange that only a few months ago this beach was full of Europeans enjoying the summer sun.

this was before we had to run home

Instead of lessening, the rain became harder and soon we felt drops on our heads, even from inside the cafe.  Dennis has not happy.

We decided to make a run for it...through the puddles and the driving rain.  No umbrella and neither of us wearing hats, even though Denise suggested it 42 times before we left.  Up and Up the stairs we climbed back to the apartment....soaked and shivering.  It was wonderful.

Poor, cold Dennis

New outdoor cedar bathroom

Olive tree garden

                                    So today when I suggested a

        walk...Dennis brought both umbrellas.  And good thing.  It started raining down on us while

 we strolled through the olive tree garden.  We were surprised by the changes that have been made since Summer.  The tress have been trimmed back and different flowers are blooming now, like magnolia.  They have built a new out door bathroom facility, very nice, from cedar wood and with a stone pathway.  Even for a bathroom, it is lovely.

We made it home a little less soaked thanks to the umbrellas and enjoyed hot chicken soup I had made the day before,  while Denise shook her head at our young foolishness for running around outside in the rain. How can I explain that there was nothing else I would rather have been doing? Well, curling up and reading a good book might be another choice....or writing a good book.  Other than that, running around in the rain with Dennis, in France...there is no better way to spend a Thursday.

The spring time is close

What can I say? I was attacked

I feel the love

The days are already flying past.  Already into day five of  my return to the South of France. Of course I nap a lot. Is it the jet lag or is it my way of relaxing? Perhaps it is my body's way of recovering from all the eating and drinking. Even the expresso can not keep me awake mid-day. Come night however, I am wide awake and my mind is spinning from the days events and the plans ahead.

So I reflect tonight, at 1:15 in the morning, about all we have done in the past few days.  Already this visit feels more intimate and better then before. I loved France from the moment we first met, yet now she feels more like an old friend welcoming me back after an unwanted absence.

No doubt these feeling stem from the many invitations we have already enjoyed from friends old and new. It seems like there is always someone to pencil in here or there to our calender, the people are so loving and generous that they want to share and share all they have with us.

We enjoyed the love of our brotherhood tonight in the French speaking congregation of Menton. It was difficult to leave the building because of so many people waiting to talk to us. And it is a small group in comparison to where we meet in the states. The language barrier does not feel like a barrier at all here.  And I noticed that the love was not just for us, the American visitors from last summer, Dennis and his American wife. No, they showed love to each other too.  Much kissing and laughing and hugging, from each one to each other one.  I was really taken back by it.  With the closing Amen we were surrounded in our seats and it was a great length of time before I could even walk away from the row I was standing in. People I'd met before and others that were complete strangers were smiling and hugging me. It was truly a beautiful experience. We were even given gifts by the children of a family we have grown found of. On our last visit they hardly knew us but reached out in generosity to us, giving us a car to drive while we stayed here for weeks and having us over for a lovely meal with their entire family. This time they are learning to speak English just to be able to talk to me when I visit. I feel ashamed that I have failed them in learning anymore French.  I promised them by next visit in the Summer, I would be able to communicate better with them. But every little effort brings smiles and laughter.  Such a loving group of people.

But France in general has been loving and welcoming.  Even to me, someone totally foreign and lost here.  I can say Bonjour and Merci and a few others and that is all.  I can understand some conversations through listening closely and watching body language and facial expressions but I am far and away lost in this language.  I look American, speak like an American and laugh like a chipmunk.  Yet, I am met with genuine good natured laughter, smiles and kindness everywhere I go.  Strangers are polite and helpful. Young and old speak greetings just when passing on the street.  If we need a question answered or Dennis stumbles over a word or thought, we are treated with patience and tact.  This country has had the worse reputation but not my last visit nor this one have I met a rude person or an unkind French citizen.  This is a lovely place to visit and the people I met are a huge part of why I enjoy being here so much. I feel ashamed when I think of how I may treat foreigners when I am home. Lesson learned.

I also must share that I love the pace here.  I love that business are closed for 2 hours for lunch and that no one feels guilty about it.  NO ONE.  It is the way here.  Relaxed and alive.  Even when we are rushing it doesn't stress me as it does at home. Why is that? Cooking dinner on the tiny stove in Dennis' mum's kitchen is really enjoyable, the food tastes better here, even when I cook it.  I am mystified as to why these things are. Perhaps I am just infatuated with this place. Its magic holds me tight in it's grasp. Even the roaches in the kitchen and bathroom after dark aren't rattling me as much this time.  It's true, love is blindness.

And again I say Bonjour

Here I am again, back in France. Farewell Florida! I traveled alone this time, leaving from West Palm and landing in New York, JFK. After a few hours I was sitting in first class, making friends with a former opera singer named Jill, giggling over the two flight attendants' that kept plying us with champagne.  Thank you Victor and Mark! I have discovered a new habit while here in France, that is, I always look at the shoes.  The men's shoes are really fascinating. Works of art really.

It was a short flight of only 6 hours and 50 minutes due to a steady tail wind. I guess we were being blown back to France in a hurry.

And it was a lovely flight, of course, with a constant flow of food and wine.  Jill and I both over ate and I rolled out of the plane at around 8 in the morning.  After having been separated from my husband for a cruel 2 weeks, it was a joyous reunion for us!  I was a mess without him, just ask my friends and family.  A hot, sloppy mess.  But that's all over now. Dennis and I were soon winding through familiar coastal/mountainous passes on our way out of Nice, through Monaco and home to Cap Martin. Nothing has changed here, where I spent many weeks in July sweating. But it is much much cooler now, thankfully. Even I have the windows closed against the damp sea air. It only took one night for me to see that my little insect "friends" are still living here, healthy and everywhere underfoot. They do seem slower due to the cooler winter air.  I feel a little more at ease towards them, but only a very little bit. Maybe I just know I can't win this battle and I must concede.

Dennis left me a welcome home gift of cookies on the bed. It feels like home now!!

random door in Monaco

with chocolate on the side

Hotel lounge

Monaco center, Casino in the distance, Cafe de Paris to the left

Before I even had time to wash my face and change my clothes, Dennis had me off again, this time back into Monaco to buy opera tickets for an upcoming performance next weekend. (Naturally) Of course, one cannot simply buy the tickets online, that would be so modern and simple.  No no no, you have to go to the casino where the box office is. So off we went and on the way we simply had to stop to see if anything has changed in our favorite principality since July.  The Cafe de Paris is the same, the crowd sitting outside is simply dressed in coats and boots now. Everyone is there to see and be seen. We had a wonderful cup of coffee at one of the hotels along the Grand Prix route, overlooking the cool grey sea.  But of course.

Even the bathroom signs are oh' so French, making me feel like a chubby American, as usual. I never noticed them last time. Love her hourglass figure! She has such flare....

We did a little window shopping and soon zoomed off again home to prepare for dinner at a friends house. Here in France, where I have spent so little time, I feel at home very quickly. The winding roads, the scooters everywhere, people walking right long the roadside where you can hardly fit a car and endless breath-taking views you just never get accustomed too.  It is impossible to capture on film all that there is to see here. Every picture I take seems small, too petite to capture all that I see and feel. I love this place!

On our second day out, we found a bakery where we could have an expresso to go! Our first in France. Very exciting..and very very small.  As Dennis pointed out, the coffee here will never warm you up, that's for sure!

Back at the house, the lemon trees are full of fruit and this heralds the coming citrus festival next week. I'm really looking forward to that! It is held in downtown Menton, barely a few miles from us. I'll keep you posted on that event. Until then..its good to be back.

Menton

And I miss you when you're not around.....

T-Minus three days since Dennis left for France and although I was a hot crying mess when we said goodbye, so far I've held it together. With a lot of help from my friends here in FL and in other corners of the globe.

First let me say that I fly out to meet him in 12 days. That being said, at the end of the day, he is the one I want to see, laugh with, tell my stories too and fall asleep next too.  Dennis is my favorite person, hands down and having him so far away is like having my heart cut in two.

Granted my heart is already feeling sore since just a few days ago my mother told me that the family has broken up. With me living here in FL, and everyone else I love being in Rhode Island...its the farthest apart we have all ever been. And now my sister Jen is talking about moving....moving states away from me and Rhode Island.  My mother is right, we are all broken up. And maybe its the way of life and maybe for many families they move far away from each other early on in their adult lives so for those people, this whining may seem childish and small town backwater hillbilly.  To those people, I am sorry.  But it made my heart sink to my feet when my mom said that...because she is right.  Things aren't the same, we aren't right down the street anymore and I am sad for that..and my heart is sore.  I can't watch a movie with Kate whenever I want, I can't stop over at my mum's with flowers for her on my way home from work..I can't show my dad the latest cool pictures I've taken or the new thing my phone can do...I can't meet Jen for lunch and go shopping...I can't mind the Gap with Stacy at a moment's notice.  I miss them all.  I miss my girlfriends and guyfriends that I could hang out with and eat fried chicken with and meet for breakfast and just laugh and talk and talk and even not talk with. I miss them, each of them, for their own unique and beautiful way and the light they brought to my life.  And even though we are still friends and I think of them each daily, I know that our time as it was is part of our history.  I miss my friend Richard every Saturday morning and I miss the smell of my parent's house...I miss my mom and my dad...and I miss teasing Kate and getting her to eat fruit I only pretended to wash :) I miss the things of home and I know that those moments are truly only memories now because they can never happen again.  Even if I lived there again, those times are past.  For better or worse, those times have past.  And I'm sorry.  I'm sorry most of all to my mom that those times are past.

Of course to any who know me or who have read this blog, you know that I am in a constant state of homesickness.  Really, homesickness has been my new place of residence.  I'm afraid I may never leave.

And now with my favorite person thousands of miles away, my family on the other end of the coast...I am feeling a little alone.

But I have soldiered on by eating, baking, cooking, shopping and more eating. Thank you to my friends here who have spoiled me and kept me busy.  And soon my friend Kerri will be here to occupy my days with laughter and alcohol and massage.  Then off to France for me...then back to Florida with my friend Stacy coming out to spend the weekend.  It takes a community to keep me busy and away from self-pity parties and self loathing.  I have my chin up and my attitude is bright as I face the work week ahead..even No Smiles won't bring this girl down!

But there is a sore spot in my heart because my family is broken up.  Who knows where Kate will go but I'm sure her feet will carry her to new adventures when she is ready.  Hopefully we each will learn to appreciate each other all the more from being apart and work to find the time to get together regularly.  After all, home is where your heart is, right? So if that is true, old ways may be past, but can't we make new ways? Can't we have new times in the future? I'd like to think so. I'd like to think that somehow, in the future, I'll be able to pop into my mom's house and bring her flowers for no other reason but because I love her.  I'd like to think that I can stop to show my dad the newest cool thing I learned or seen or heard. I'd like to think that I will sit on Kate's bed and she will dish on everything that has happened to her since we last talked and I'd like to think that Jen and I will meet again at the Frog and Toad and laugh till our side hurt.  Not today, not tomorrow... not now, but soon.

My Baby sister

19 years ago, and a few months, I was the baby in the family. It was all me.  I was the youngest, the last and in my opinion....the best of what my parents could produce. And then, at the age of 43 my mother has her last baby..and I am ousted to middle child position...which means I am now forgotten and lost and invisible.

The day Kathryn was born, well it was very early in the morning to be exact. I had fallen asleep waiting to hear the phone ring and so when it did, I jumped up and almost hit the ceiling of my room. Jen, the oldest sister and secure in that position, also answered the phone so both of us echoed the "Hello?..Dad? How is mom..how is the baby??"


"Good, they are both good"


"What is it?"


"Its a girl"


I still felt lost.  Ousted. At least my mother allowed me to help choose the name of my replacement sibling. I picked Kathleen at first but my mother felt that Kathleen Moore was to Irish a name for a girl with no Irish in her. So I settled for Kathryn. I named her after Catherine the Great, one of my favorite queens, and Catherine Earnshaw, the daughter of Catherine Linton in Wuthering Heights because she was loving and good and everything her mother was not and she was going to make a success out of her life and follow her heart.  She married her love and they were happy. That is what I wanted for my Kathryn.

We arrived to the hospital on that dreary March morning. I had brought my mother red tulips because she loved tulips.  A grand gesture, I thought, of kindness and welcome coming from me to my rival.  I wanted to put a good foot forward, even though I hated being the middle child now.

And then I met my baby sister.  Baby Kathryn. She was dark, like a raisin and she had a ton of black hair. I remember thinking that she had a ton of black hair.  And then a crazy thing happened to me. I could no longer remember ever not knowing her. I couldn't remember a time when I didn't have a baby sister named Kathryn. She became our entire world, the whole family, including me. I fell in love with that little raisin in that flash of a second and now I can't believe she wasn't always been in our lives.

I love being the middle child now because it means that Kathryn is the baby and that's the way it's supposed to be.  It turns out that I've been waiting all my life to have a sister named Kathryn. I can't believe I survived so long without her.  She came just in the nick of time. And she is turning out to be everything I hoped she would be.

Now she is my inspiration and my muse.  She teaches me something every time we talk, whether its how to include a music file in an email, or how to be more patient and loving...or how to be fearless and raw and follow your heart.  She is strong and compassionate.  She is brave.  I always think of her as that tiny raisin lying in the hospital or that infant learning to crawl, or that teenager slipping on every piece of ice on the sidewalk while the three of us were in Maine until I thought I was going to lose her under a parked car... or I think of her as the adventurous girl that I saw set off by herself everyday we were in CA together, having adventures and exploring the city of San Francisco ..I thought of her as too young to be able to do that without me but she was fine..she drives everywhere on her own..almost like she doesn't need me anymore and that is a terrible feeling, because I very much need her and I would hate it if I was on a one way street in the needing department..but she is an adult now with talent and a voice. And now the greatest moments for me are when she shares her talent with me or when she shares her voice. I worry that because I live so far away, that I am going to miss something, some tiny bit of her...and I will be the loser if that happens. I don't want to miss a single moment.  I miss my sister Kathryn. (Now I'm gonna hear it from my sister Jen..Love you too Jen, miss you too!)

So here is to baby sisters everywhere, stealing the spotlight and changing lives. Thank you for coming along...nothing would be right without you. We middle children would be nothing without you to miss and worry about and be crushingly proud of.

XOXOXOXOX to you Kate.. I am seeing in me now the things you swear you saw yourself. I miss watching movies with you and playing Mario Kart too.  I miss you asking me or telling me or sharing with me.  I miss your light.  Don't stop shinning it because if you try to shine it very very bright I will feel it, even all the way down here. And I need you, my Kathryn.

No work Mondays

I work a four day work week so I have Mondays off.  And it is just as good as it sounds. Get up late, walk Anna, cook, clean the house, sneak in a nap.  Its very very good.  The bad part? I want every day of the week to be a Monday. Except for Saturday and Sunday, of course.


I'm waiting for dinner to be done and the bottle of Lady in Red to be well oxygenated before I dig in.   


Somehow though, despite the day off and all the relaxing I've been doing, I find myself wallowing to a certain depth of self pity. You see, my husband leaves Friday for France.  F R A N C E...for five weeks. And I, I have to stay here, in Florida, working at the job I do not like. At all.  And I'm not happy about that. At all.  So what am I to do? Wallow.  And eat.  Thats all I've come up with so far. 


Its ruined for me, being alone.  I once loved it, relished in it even. The silence, the freedom of it all.  No one to share my wine with, my food with, no one to explain myself to or wait for. If I wanted to watch a show again, no one complained. If I wanted to watch Out of Africa every night no one complained. (Actually, in all honesty my roommate complained about that one. She once stood at the doorway to my room pleading with me to get out of Africa) But when I was all alone...no one cared what I did.  I could wear socks to bed, I could leave the bathroom door open. And incense...I could burn a ton of incense and set off the smoke alarms if I wanted to. 


So I'm gonna be alone for five weeks.  Blissfully alone.  So what's my problem.


Turns out that being alone isn't as great as I remember it. I can already sense myself falling apart at the seams.  Dennis keeps me from being consumed with self interest.  He keeps me human. And he gives me something to look forward to every single morning and every single night. So I dread these next few weeks without him. While he is drinking in the French coastline and eating the best cheese and tasting the best wine..I'm going to be wallowing here in our condo, with the bathroom door open and Out of Africa on the TV..Alone..waiting for time to pass until we are together again and my life makes sense again. Because, as a wise man once said, when you've met the person you want to spend the rest of you life with, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.

Have five weeks past yet??