After a long and bumpy flight to JFK, after a long delay there and then another long delay on the tarmac at JFK in a tiny airplane surrounded by rainstorms, M made it to Montreal and the customs man let her through!
It’s a miracle.
And now the house is very quiet, which is good and bad. I keep thinking she’s just upstairs and then I miss her, but I also could have gone to bed at 9:30, and I very nearly did, except I’ve stayed awake instead putting my brain in order — something I may do better when there’s no one more diverting around.
My mother turns 80 this year, and that and the recent death of her own mother (who was over 100) has her rethinking everything — she wants to move out of her big house (the wonderful house my children spent every summer in); she wants to move to San Diego (San Diego? She claims she has been thinking about it for a while, and not just since my younger brother decided to move there); she wants to rent a house in her town in Massachusetts. I thought she might want to think about coming here, but I think she does not, and I may in fact feel okay about having offered it in good faith and had it turned down. It may mean I have to fly down to San Diego now and then, but it also means I’m not tied here.
Selfishly, I want her to stay in Massachusetts. I like having an anchor on the east coast. But I don’t know that she will — I suspect it may be harder for her to stay there in a smaller house, and with my brother gone — although another brother still lives there, for now.
I don’t know — it’s all up in the air for me, too, I guess. Who knows where my kids will end up, and how small is the world, really?
In any case, I am going to bed.