Sylvia's Journal

Lobster Cove is empty this morning. No more than a small puddle in the middle. We have missed the mussel meals. I woke Axel up to investigate where they had gone. It was little early for him but the cool morning air and the cold water woke him up. He reported that they were either washed away or buried. I followed him at a distance and took pictures. Even though it is an overcast morning, it is beautiful. There is no horizon. The white sky is fused with the far away waters of the sea.

Fusion. I wrote to a fellow rower who was also in a plane crash and had her ankle fused. She wrote back that she had to give up some things, like running and swimming (her fused ankle works like an anchor) but that by and large it was a good thing and she can still row and ski. Willem, my brother consulted his medical confreres and a top athlete and all indicated that fusion is a very viable option. I am also told to avoid ankle replacement as long as I can.

Yesterday morning we closed the course with some serious stuff and then we had fun. I had made a slideshow of pictures taken during the course and inserted text and thought balloons. Making the slideshow was as much fun as showing it. In a more serious exercise the students talked about each other and themselves as they struggled through ambiguity, mismatched agendas and the stresses of balancing their personal lives with their academic ones. We celebrated the course closing, their 8 credits and the personal transformations that happened with a meal in an Indian restaurant, in between speeches, certificates, personal awards and many words of appreciation. My headache and nausea were less severe than they were on waking up but still interfered with my enjoyment of the meal. I was exhausted and my body kept telling me that – but what can you do when you still have to get your car, drive home and then have people coming for another birthday dinner for Axel?

Our friends Anne and Chuck came for a private birthday dinner party. We sat by the cove toasting to Axel’s 62st and to my mother who would have turned 90 yesterday. When the mosquitoes came out we equipped Chuck with a mosquito zap racket. He made them disappear doing mosquito tai chi, which took the life force out of them, and then we killers went inside.

The birthday boy himself did the shopping, cooking, serving and cleaning up, so I just sat there and enjoyed the spectacularly simple and tasty meal (fresh swordfish and tuna kebabs with arugula salad and the first native corn of the summer). We talked about wine descriptors, improvisation training and a thousand other things that happened in the months we haven’t seen each other. And then I tumbled into bed and a deep sleep with disturbing dreams about someone dear and close who died suddenly.