Our friend Woody picked us up at the airport under sunny skies and Kabul like summer temperatures. Along the way we stopped to pick up some G&T ingredients. I marveled at the beach goers who walked into downtown Manchester from the beach. I kept thinking about the turbaned men and covered women in the region we live in and wished I could crawl in their heads and read their thoughts upon seeing these scantily clad men and women; all of us living on the same planet, how could that be?
Tessa and Steve received us with ice-cold beers, grilled swordfish, a salad nearly entirely from our own garden, lovingly tended by Tessa and her friend Kyla, Italian bread and local goat cheese. We ate with the water in Lobster Cove sparkling in the background. Chicha was also happy to see us and deposed Frisbees and other flying things on our feet, she wanted to play (she always want to play, whether you have come all the way from
Afghanistan or downtown Manchester).
We are for now parked in the barn where we unfolded our lovely Afghan carpets and opened the various packages that we had been ordering: books, CDs, etc. Whatever space evacuated by stuff we carried here will be filled up by stuff we will carry back. We are like couriers, or better, spreaders of things.
Today the garden is being spruced up, Axel is getting this and then that body check and Tessa and I will go to New Hampshire to get some sparkles to add to the festivities on Friday after dark. All the while Lobster Cove is filling and emptying, and beckoning. It is good to be out of being land-, and mountain locked.
Sylvia's Journal 
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