Impossible Geometry

One of the complicated pleasures of keeping a journal is that you  realize your life  is both linear and circular at once.  Yes new things are happening by the minute, and yes you are most definitely growing older, and yet there are cycles powerful as the tides at work. 

Just about a year ago I wrote how sad I was to see my grown daughters leave after their annual, Festival of Sisters visit home.  And guess what?  I am sad again.  Scooped out like an old melon.  While those golden girls were all here this time, we swam in Lake Erie, gawked at a geodesic dome, went for a little hike (very little, since Delia was wearing her city high heels!), drank champagne, and sat around the dinner table for hours on end.  Phoebe brought home fabric she bought in Finland and I made her a dress (my headache is almost gone).  Every morning I got up and stole down here, to drink my coffee and gloat over the fact I had them all, asleep upstairs, just like olden days.

And yet.  When it was time for them to go we felt  lucky that their east coast flights were not cancelled, since it was only one day after Irene.  Because it was time for them to go.  The circle I’d drawn around them came undone; it straightened and flattened and became a line, an arrow, a road, a goodbye, goodbye till next time. 

But this year I have a new way to keep in touch with Delia, who lives in Brooklyn.  She’s started a blog, ,  where she writes about the feral feline  denizens of her neighborhood.  Since her visit home, she’s written about our two goofy cats, as well.    This is one hilarious, tender girl.  

On we go!