Lost in transit

Sweet Home...

It wasn't easy- this time- for me to come back to the Netherlands. I don't know why this time was different, but it was. Perhaps it was because of the seductive friendliness which seems intrinsic to the South: why, I even caught myself smiling and chatting away with the sales clerks at the Penney's in Birmingham. Or perhaps it was because of the conversation Han and I had at Dad's, sitting on the porch and realising that we had enough assets to buy a lovely house here and still have a generous, financial safety net to fall back upon. Yes, if - basically- I would just say the word, all this could be mine.

Satan stretched his hand out before me.

I was severely tempted, surprising myself.

When we came home last week, I avoided town. I didn't feel like stepping back into it all and so sent Sally and Mike out to the store as often as I could. I wondered- rather dramatically- if I was developing that illness, you know, that one where you are afraid to go out of your house. Wouldn't be all that surprising, I suppose.

Today was the first day of school and a rather hectic morning at that : the alarm was not set correctly and so we slept about 20 minutes longer than usual. On a school day. But we made it to school on time.

When I stepped back into the now quiet house, I realised that I hadn't been alone since before the vacation began, why I hadn't even indulged in my favorite hobby- taking naps- once. It felt so peaceful all around me.

I did the shopping, collecting the bits and pieces that make up our daily routine: bread sticks for Meg's school snack, whole wheat cookies for Mike and Sally, anything- but- fish cat food for the cat.

At the bakery, I saw that they had ciabattas and ordered two for Sally, some raisin buns for Mike and a loaf of bread for lunch. After I had paid, the clerk asked me if I needed a bag. She had a funny smile on her face, which told me that she knew that I never asked for a bag but she must ask, it's part of the job. I smiled back as I told her that wasn't necessary, and found myself still smiling as I stepped out of the store.

Once home, I put my groceries away and remembered to take the butter out of the fridge for Sally, she prefers soft butter for her lunch. It's Monday, water- the- geraniums- day, and so I went onto our stoop with my three bottles of water, a plastic bag ( for the dead blossoms) and the keys to the house.

It had been 6 weeks since anyone had tidied them up and so was quite a bit of work. As I removed the dried off stems, every few minutes a native , someone actually from our little, tourist town of 1500 inhabitants, people that I've nodded to during the years,would walk by, we would exchange brief pleasantries and then they would continue on their way into town.

And I realised that I was happy once again, happy to be home and that I was once again experiencing that unique pleasure of living in the town that I live in.

A sleepy little tourist town, of 1500 inhabitants.

Posted by sue at September 6, 2004 09:43 PM