I made it back to Chicago. I was about three days late and I’m short a puppy, but I’m here.
A puppy? How could I be short a puppy?
Well, I left him in New York, that’s how…my mother was nice enough to take him this week while she’s still up in the mountains and I’m running around in circles back here so he gets the better end of that deal anyway. Bonding time with grandma, I suppose.
I should be careful using that term though, considering my inability to produce real grandchildren for my mother; something not lost on my Aunts last week, let me tell you.
The mountains and the lake and the cabin life was really great; I forget every year how relaxing a world can be without technology moving it along at it’s hefty clip. We have a family golf tournament early in the week on one of the world’s most beat up golf courses on earth and the golf carts are probably the most advanced technology in the whole town. I think the local library just operates on your word that you’ll return their books.
Everyone settles into that pace, as if it’s more natural than the one we’re all a part of out here. Life’s slower. Meals are bigger events. Books get read. Then they get discussed.
Last Sunday we had a bit of a brunch for my fallen uncle; it was followed by a big barbecue in his honor that afternoon. It rained right in between but during neither event, and all day I found myself asking here and there if anyone had the time. As in, had a watch, cell phone, or had seen a clock.
Not one person had any clue. More than one said, “I haven’t know what time it was since I left home and came here”.
It says something. But what does it say?
Photo by kennymatic
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