Mr. and Mrs. Jems

(For the third time) the surrealness of the “welcome back” cake inscription, baffling and yet superbly appropriate, befitting this mazy, zig-zag, perfection of a blissful month.  The stories so wondrous, from the secretive departure and wifi conference calls to the sandbank and win of cup.  “We were surprised,” said Mom, and the look of exhausted yet confused amusement on Dad’s face summed up much of the magic on that call that cheered M so brightly.

COVID test for her yesterday adding to the pile of experiences that must be paid for but only adds to the details of this tale, one that will be oft told to while away future hours.  Returning to the Miz and its cannons, hearing again the wafting music from the cultural centre and knowing smiles from the staff, it makes the time feel long.  No rush, no stress, no rules or timetables, as the apartment binder invited.  How long ago was that?  What have you learned in terms of next times?

Enough.  I have learned enough.  More than enough.  The transformation has begun, and now it remains only to play it out.  And return at some distant point to mark these experiences with the same eyes again.  There is a sort of homesickness that sticks, in terms of the transience.  The apartness from the surroundings.  The urge to rest among the familiar, after awhile on the road.  The reality of distance.

Soon time for the thief’s escape again.  With knowledge of another theft of time and place and heart.  Entertainment of books and movies to pass the overlong days, the joy at changing weather patterns, falling rain and silver seas and guardian stars...  I still know so little, though grow more content.