Sylvia's Journal

I woke up this morning from a feast. I don’t think it had anything to so with the Red Sox, although that is worth a feast too. My feast was an exquisite banquet and someone was serving me the best pieces and quickly. I can’t remember what the celebration was all about but I do remember a question I was asked, just before I woke up: “who does the translation function?” There was a figure, somewhere in the dream, who was there to translate; a woman, sitting in the corner. I did not recognize her, and I remember noticing that she did not translate all that much and that I was actually the one doing the translation; from what to what was not clear.It is 36 degrees outside and we are getting close to our first frost. It is the first time the temperature dipped under 40 and sitting in bed writing is a bit chilly now. I might change my routine and get dressed first, get the coffee and then write although I am afraid that paying attention to such mundane things first would change the quality of the writing.

We still have some harvesting to do of tomatoes and beans and there are plenty of flowers in bloom. I am not quite ready for winter. On Friday Allegra came with her tutorial of kids from the Waring School to help us with the chores that come with this time of the year. They raked leaves, piled lawn chairs under a tarp and carried the winter windows to the porch. They did all this in one hour between lunch and their next class. It must have been quite a sight and I am sorry I missed it, but I am grateful nevertheless.

Yesterday morning I went to Quaker meeting alone and in the car. Axel is still not quite ready to sit still for one hour and I am not quite ready to ride my bike one half hour each way on a road that dips up and down. I did contemplate the idea but decided, after my busy two days at Babson that this Sunday was intended to be a day of rest and took the car. On the way to Meeting I listened to an interview with Alison Krauss and Robert Plant about their new album (Raising Sand). They played her song ‘Let your loss be your lesson’ which resonated strongly with me. There have been several losses in my life that contained a gift inside them. Sometimes it has taken me a long time to find that gift; sometimes I was obvious and I found it quickly. I think the latter applies to what happened over the summer. If it would have been possible to return an experience, like one returns a piece of merchandise to a store, I don’t think I would have returned what happened to us this summer. Some people have reacted to this statement with great surprise and somewhat of a shock. But those who have seen us unpack the gifts inside it are not surprised.

We were reminded of our somewhat defective short term memory by a call from the Lipkinds asking where we were. We had been invited for brunch and had forgotten to write it down. It was the second instance in as many days that something like this happened. We jumped in the car and drove to Plum Island and had a rather late brunch. The good part of our late arrival was that we got to see the late afternoon light stream into their wonderful house with its abundance of windows that look out over the dunes and the marshes that surround Plum Island. On the way back we stopped at the side of the road to relieve a farmer of several pumpkins and some freshly picked produce, possibly the last of the season.

And now I am on the final stretch before take off on Friday. It is less than a full week with lots of appointments. For starters two surgeon’s appointments: mine today to check out that sharp piece under my belly button and Axel’s on Wednesday in Boston to check out his peripheral nerve damage. I am trying not to set myself up for disappointments and frustrations by selecting my goals carefully. It will be a challenge and it is going to require a lot of intentionality or, if that fails, some policing by Sita and Axel.