on his way home

I’m at the Farmer’s Market, just three blocks from my home.  There is a very old woman in front of me.  She moves slowly, every gesture an effort.  She is asking all sorts of questions about the ramps, and the vendor is describing how she uses them in many recipes.  “I am not a very good cook," the old woman admits in beautifully enunciated English.  The vendor smiles and says, “I like an honest response,” to which the woman adds, “In my many years of living, I have found that lies should be saved for the consequential.” 

I buy an apple breakfast cake, some amazing goat cheese (with garlic and herbs), and brown eggs (I later research and discover there is no nutritional difference between the white and the brown).  My refrigerator is now full and ready.

I come home and clean my apartment.  I have decided not to give my son any printed rules.  After reading my blog, my mom called and told me she’d move out if she were given a list of house rules.  She has a point.  I’d probably move out to, or at least want to.

I have a quick lunch and then head over for a relaxing manicure/pedicure.  Though my son wouldn’t notice if my polish were chipping, I want to look prepped for his arrival.  I speak to Zelia who tells me her last manicure before this week was in late December.  I hang up feeling guilty.

Alexander calls more today than he has in the previous seven days combined. “What time should I be at the storage place?”  “Do I have to print out the bus ticket and storage info; I don’t have a printer (he does; does this mean it’s not working?).”   “How do I pack glass (as in shot glasses, I learn upon probing)?”  And finally, “Hi.  I didn’t pack a lot of my clothes because I ran out of bags.  (Really?  You didn’t think to buy a bag of big Hefty storage bags on your many trips to Target?).  So I’m putting my extra clothes in my gym locker.  Next year I’ll plan better.”  One can only hope.

And then I get this final call.  "I'm all set.  This was an unbelivable year.  I'm sad it's over, but I'm ready to come home."  It's now 6pm.  He should be on this bus.  I can't wait.