Life: Idiotropic

A computer would be better as I am freer to be prolific when typing, but that is sitting in a box in our van while we swelter in a third floor apartment listening to the cascading water of the pool and snatches of unintelligible conversations from other open windows thinking if we’re hot here in Paris, oh, we’ll absolutely DIE in Spain.

This morning we played a symphony out of sync, bodies in motion anxious and hurried while emotions clung to minutes drug out, held on by thread, suspended in time for as long as we could hold on. Kirk was up at 5 to load the truck and van, fuel them and clean them for our drive. I arranged the odds and ends lying about, packed a few more things, and got the girls together. We were at Tinny’s by 9. It felt strange pulling up in front of her house instead of pulling down our driveway. Three large trucks were already parked outside what was our house just a day before unloading furniture and boxes for the new tenant. It’s too fast I wanted to drive away with the illusion that our empty house would remain that way, ours and empty, waiting for our return.

Tinny had her tiny kitchen table turned around and expanded set with her best china with pink roses. She made fresh coffee and set out prepared plates of schinkenwurst, ham, broetchen and sliced bread, cheese, and 4 donuts - just for the girls. It felt too formal. Nice, but I prefer the impromptu unset snacks when time stood still. This morning Tiara and I sat picking at our food, eating, but teary. It’s hard to eat while crying. The girls talked together in English and Tinny just listed, as she normally does, absorbing it and seeming to hold onto those moments, the last time we’d frustuck together for a while. I showed her photos I’m putting into an album for her. That broke the sadness long enough for some smiles and laughter.

I’ve been hearing about the guest book for the last week. So we pulled the patio table and chairs into the garden where the children played so we could sit together and I could sign. Tiara sat on the bench alone waiting for Charlotte and Gabby. I made the little girls sign the book first dreading my turn to put pen to paper.

This is easy. I can ramble on more that you’d care to read. But I hate signing cards. No matter what the occasion. And a guest book - this guest book - it’s just too hard. Her family translates the English words written on the right side, types them for her, then glues it onto the book onto the left side of each page.

Lump in throat. Searching to find the words that can somehow quantify what Tinny has meant for our family here. Teardrops on the pages as I write. Tante plays with the girls, then we talk. Avoidance. Smiling, talking about the girls and how big they are. Can’t say in German now exactly what I’d like to say, to express the gratitude, the feeling of closeness, the feeling of family.

Tiara’s friends have come, Charlotte with a flat tire and broken sunglasses. They’re on one last walk by the windmills, but don’t take any pictures. They’re quiet too now. Sitting together. Talking a little. Picking at the grass.

Kirk is ready. The girls are oblivious to good-bye. But. I’m not ready. Tiara’s not ready. Please. Not yet.

But it’s time, so we go trying to be strong, then falling apart for that last hug. Tante and I are crying, hugging, trying to smile, crying more and hugging more. “Ich liebe Dich, Tante.” It’s all I can say, but I know she understands all that means. She always did even when I spoke no German. Somehow we could look at each other and understand. She hugs the girls and me again. Charlotte and Gabby are crying on the sidewalk next to Tante. Tante’s crying. Tiara and I are crying. Kirk pulls away in his truck and we have to follow. Can’t look back though Tiara and I both want to. We sob all the way down the 221 to the autobahn.

“Do you want to put on some music, Tiara? The Fray?”

She won’t put on the songs she likes. She doesn’t want her favorite songs to be associated with this sad moment. We finally chose Jim Brickman’s By Heart album and sob all the way to the border.

Belgium and France aren’t the same. We didn’t live there. It’s easier now driving through these countries where we aren’t leaving so much behind. Stopping once for gas, once for snacks, stuck in traffic that ends up being slow only for something on the other side of the highway - a turned semi that backs up traffic on the other side for miles in the hot sun. 10.40 toll in France.

We drove through Emanonville - a absolutely beautiful town with a chateau and old statues - in France north of Paris on the way to Serris. I want to go back there. It was killing me to be there and not have even 30 seconds to stop for a photo or two.

The girls didn’t know about Disney - the little ones at least. Tiara looked at my calendar and found out weeks ago. I drove by about 6 large Mickey Mouse signs without Elise noticing one. Kirk didn’t have as much luck in his truck. Both girls saw them and figured it out.

Our hotel in Serris is old, but nice and has Disney tickets and a free shuttle, so that made it all easy. Misha was happy to be in a small place where she couldn’t get lost. We rested a bit then walked to one of Europe’s largest shopping malls to the Place al Toscane for a dinner that I cooked. Ordered Korean BBQ hoping for something along the lines of the Bulgoki we got in OKC, and got a couple small plates of veggies and sauces and three large plates of raw meat. Huh. Not what I’d envisioned. After a long drive on a hot emotional day, I really didn’t want to sit on the patio of a nice restaurant and cook my family’s meal. We did wait a bit... hoping we were wrong, but no. I stood up and cooked up the girl’s chicken and steak while Kirk ate, then he finished cooking so I could eat. Finished up with ice cream from a stand. French vanilla that wanted to be French vanilla but wasn’t quite there and cappuccino that was a cup of coffee on a cone - delicious.

Hot and tired. Emotionally drained. 11pm and Kirk and Elise are the only ones sleeping. The rest finally sleep and I listen to a baby screaming across the complex for half the night.

Photos: http://www.facebook.com/album.php?aid=126229&id=674507268&l=5cf91330b9