Sylvia's Journal

Yesterday was like driving with one hand on the steering wheel and the other cleaning the dashboard with spit. But first there was a trip to my eye doctor (20/20 vision, only a slight creep up in reading glass strength), who sent me home good to go for another 2 years.

Back home I kept one of my healthy eyes on the computer for emails washing in over the transom, especially from the countries where there are people who want something from me right now. The other eye/hand had started to clean out the mess in my office and do something akin to the reset button on a screen or computer program.

I finally threw out the coursebooks of MSH training courses I gave 10 or more years ago as well as anything else I had not touched for a few years. Sometimes I did not even open the file; it was easier that way. I am not an accountant so I don’t have to worry about stuff you have to keep x number of years for the taxman. In the process I also got rid of aged dustbunnies and untangled nests of wires.

I also rearranged the furniture so I can open my file drawers again; the last vestige of the calamity arrangement in my office, which used to serve as my sickroom, is now gone. With three more weeks to go to the first year anniversary, the symbolism of all these moves is hard to miss. When I picked up the biohazard bag with the keys of the plane that is no more I started thinking about what to do with them on July 14th. I am thinking of something splashy.

All this activity was triggered by the arrival last night of the 19-year old daughter of my friends Mariette and Dirk from Holland. Aimee is here to study economics at Harvard Summer School until mid August and I am delivering her to her dorm on Saturday morning. She is spending today at our house to ‘get used to being in America.’ A soft landing of sorts. Speaking about landings, I have not offered to take her for a plane ride as I am very sure her mom and dad would not approve.

It was the state trooper at Logan who alerted me to her presence (“Where are you ma’am?” – “I am standing by the reception railing outside customs.” – “Turn around ma’am!”). Aimee has passed through immigration and customs very quickly and I had arrived much too late, because of a brain only half turned on after the great clean-up. Her Dutch cellphone did not work. She had struggled with the coin-operated phone and given up, putting her fate in the hands of our state police, who delivered her into my hands. Not a good way to arrive. It was exactly what I had wanted to prevent. I learned something about the neo-cortex and my reptilian brain; the latter to be mistrusted and shut off as soon as possible after it kicks into gear.

Joe is coming back later today and then we will have a full house again with all the rooms in our house occupied. The idea of Lobster Cove Inn is not so strange as it may have sounded before, except we like having people we know rather than paying strangers. And as I write this there is another arrival. Steve and puppy Chicha have arrived after a long drive through the night straight from London (Canada). There is much hugging and yelping as Tessa is reunited with her man and dog.