Sylvia's Journal

All of yesterday morning was devoted to bodywork. This is possible because all is quiet in Kabul, the weekend of Eid is upon us and people are getting ready to feast, so very little email activity from that end.

I started with PT, getting a few more exercises as I am entering stage II post-op according to the doctor’s protocol. I declined the icepack at the end and headed straight for Abi’s massage place for a last and wonderful massage. While she continued with Axel I had my nails done by a tiny Vietnamese girl. I arrive in the midst of a wedding prep party with young blond girls debating the colors that would go best with their wedding party outfits. It made me think of the girl at Yale, murdered days before her wedding party by a deranged lab technician and all the things that did not and will not happen as a result. So very sad.

With most of the body work done, one last PT appointment on the day of my departure, I will be limber and spiffy when I arrive in Kabul, with my shiny dark red toes, short hair and no visible signs of a recent rotator cuff operation.

After his massage, Axel joined me for a lobster sandwich lunch at Panera (as advertised) and from there we drove to a community that is built for mature persons with money, just behind Wal-Mart to say goodbye to our neighbor Jacqui. The place is like a forest of large buildings that have been sprouting up, one after another, for the last few years, catching the front end of the baby boomers. The complex houses thousands of them;  people who are tired of mowing grass, shoveling show and the risks of walking out one’s front door.

Our neighbor Jacqui is one of those and has happily exchanged her beautiful but large house at the end of Lobster Cove for a small apartment at this retirement village. She told us about the possibility of walking for miles around the place, from one building into the next, without ever getting outdoors. For her that was a good thing. It makes us hope we are not going to get old for a long time, wanting such things is very scary.

While we walked back to our car I wondered why we put people of the same age together like that, all in one place. Why not sprinkle a few day care centers across the buildings and impeccably groomed lawns? The very young and the elderly, usually only mentioned together when we talk about the flu or other infectious diseases, ought to be living together. They would be able to give each other what they want most of all: attention. It would also make the place a little more lively; children’s voices and the pitter patter of small feet in a place where people speak softly and shuffle; what a concept. I see a business opportunity there.

The rest of the day was filled with a flurry of activities, checking things off multiple lists and following the finishing touches of the carpenter in our living room. He had to be a bit more precise than I was (slower is faster), so that he did not have to come back on Monday and we could move things back into the living room and invite our dinner guests to enjoy the new living room. When the first guest arrived, he was just cleaning up; we had about 30 minutes to get the place ready. We succeeded and the living room, except for pictures on the wall, is finally done, about 10 months behind schedule and just in time for my departure. We had a lovely evening sitting around the table and eating the goodies that all the guests had brought in and then, when it was parting time, we pretended that nothing is going to change.