The U.S., West to East
Out of Bolivia, I take the kids to Miami, overnight, and catch a plane the next day to Los Angeles. From there, it's a quick flight to San Diego.
San Diego is still San Diego (see last post). When I left the place 13 years ago, it was certainly a nice city, and it hasn't changed. The sun will shine every day, palm trees beckon at every street corner, their crowns swaying in the air like arms welcoming the visitor. The magic blue carpet that is the ocean or the bay stretches out in front of you, glittering in the sunshine, and the freeways weave a web throughout the city that is impossible to avoid, whether you have a vehicle or not.
Unfortunately, it's not all fun and games this time around, as I visit my ailing father, now in a nursing home. To say that watching him in such a diminished state is heartbreaking is an understatement. All I can do is visit the place, put on a brave face, and attempt to talk to him to lift his spirits any way I can. The fact that he is suffering from dementia, like all other patients in the home, and grumpy all the time certainly doesn't help. These are sobering observations, certainly.
There will be a time to take the kids to the Wild Animal Park or one of several museums in Balboa Park. We go to the long and empty beach in nearby Imperial Beach, or sit in the backyard and knock back Tecates until sunset. Eventually, we make our way back to Charlotte, NC after three weeks.
Back to Tryon and the house, a different patient that requires maintenance. Many days are spent whacking weeds, visiting hardware stores, and welcoming guests who have yet to see the place. This will be as relaxing a time I will have in quite some time, and we watch the leaves of the trees in the foothills and our own backyard turn rainbow colored before dropping and taking their final 100 foot flight to the grounds below them.
In the morning I run for an hour, in the afternoon work on the house with Liebi or visit the in-laws in Spartanburg, always a good place to take the kids. As I am sitting here writing this, Axl is on the couch putting together a lego truck while outside the large trees sit on our land and shed more of their leaves. There will be more equipment to buy, for owning a house is a never ending project. I will need a chainsaw to cut up the deadwood, and a leaf blower to amass five acres worth of leaves into proper piles of order. The guest house is a project, as our numerous doors and windows there will have to be replaced. It is a beautiful place now, a house in the middle of the sticks that you probably couldn't even find with the best GPS, and we expect it to even look better the more work and time (not to mention money) we invest in it.
Here, I am far removed from being a world chump. Bolivia is where it belongs, a continent away and now living and breathing without me. For two weeks, I get to be an American, doing American things: shopping, household chores, yard work, playing with the kids, attending arts and crafts fairs. For now, this is a welcome change, especially since we are unaware where we will be stationed next, following the cancellation of our assignment to Cairo.
There will be visiting family, going to the DMV or the post office, paying bills, and watching football games while guzzling beer. But that's all right for now.
That said, I have no illusions that this is short term only. Before we all know it, we will be packing up again, thousands of pounds, herding our kids through security checks at various airports and staring at the surroundings of some new city in some new country.
For now, that can and will have to wait.
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