The part with goodbyes
June 16, 2010 § 3 Comments
Already the prospect of going away has opened my eyes to the things that I value most about this place.
I dreamed last night that I bid New England goodbye. Except that in the emotional world of dreams that embraces and blends dualities and makes sense of contradictions, I was coming home at the same time. I clung desperately to my cat and tried to watch a triple feature with my sisters; but before the movie finished it was time to leave, and I felt the weight of my carry-on press tightly on my shoulderblade as Daddy loaded my suitcase into the car.
The reality I woke to begins to resemble my dream. My bags are packed (mostly– and my carry-on is heavier than it appears) and I have signed over the care of sweet Tigger to the Wonderkids. But in my dream, the trees were bare-limbed as I stepped off the porch. Only as I was returning were they full with summer. When my eyes opened to a shield of green outside my window, my heart leapt up.
I took my younger sisters out for ice-cream this afternoon, and we licked up our cones under the shade of handsomely-clad maple trees, all vividness and light. Behind them stretched a staggeringly soft, intensely cerulean sky. Soft yet intense, a conflation like the conflation of coming and going in my dream.
New England in summer, with sisters and friends, is a dreamland.
It’s what I love best about home.