I brought home mountains and moose signs,
fields and forests and waterfalls,
and a grand old house on a hill.
memories of them are tucked idly and tidily away – until we meet again.
drinking from bubbling cold mountain streams,
resting elbows on an old stone wall,
climbing a 240-metre incline.
this old home has seen better days,
but dreams of a future develop steadily –
beyond the peeling paint and layers of wallpaper and linoleum.
I fold these images gently inside.
visions of demolition and reconstruction blend together, amidst
the changing of door knobs and locks, and testing the Starlink.
a persistent and determined labour of love with hardware and software,
and the re-stacking of chopped wood to close off a gaping hole in the wall.
and ever more alternatives.
all with the mutual goal of trying to figure things out,
to talk things through,
to suss out a plan – of sorts.
our conversations flow unchallenged, with perfect ease.
potholes and back roads and a dark rainy drive,
my daughter calmly in control.
playing scrabble and cribbage, and sipping on wine.
marvelling at architecture, food and accents;
warm people everywhere – some were even entertained by our chit-chat.
not a single negative encounter.
spongey beds; and massive pillows impossible to sleep on –
we used them to build barricades between our beds
to block out our light from our sleeping companion.
laughing ourselves silly over our silliness
like the colours of the carpet on the stairs.
in thrift shops, gem stores, and fancy boutiques.
crystals, jewellry, and singing bowls; garments on sale;
“good, good, good, … good vibrations!”
books from sidewalk libraries.
walking and talking and moments of silence.
tidal bores! such a treat! how could I not know they existed?
a fellow traveller with her tale of a lost phone.
walking barefoot in the ocean sand and water, embracing the sights and sounds.
more treasures for home:
pebbles, shells and old man’s beard.
Laughter and delight in our shared appreciation
for mushrooms and bark and textures and detail;
and lichen and colours and rocks
and birds and buildings and trees.
and cattails resembling old men.
searching in vain for lobster.
visiting galleries and pubs.
a Victorian home with a charming hostess
and treasures in every room;
delightfully soft and luxurious sheets on our quilt-covered beds.
struggling to get Google music to do our bidding;
lessons in double solitaire where the student slaughters the teacher.
exploring our understanding of the spiritual, consciousness, conspiracies, the truth;
marvelling at life, and love, and the differences between men and women.
and embracing the contrasts, too.
(precipices and machinery)
listening and speaking; speaking and listening;
musing and laughing and loving.
singing in the car:
Christine Lavin, “I’m a fly on a plane” “The checkout girl”
The Corries, “Will ye go, Lassie, go?”
Lou Reed, “Walk on the Wild side.”
such fun we had!
mother and daughter, friends and companions;
nine wonderful days together;
over 3,000 kms.
Shared oohs and aahs and love.