At Home
It’s cold and wet here—true October weather—and, with Lucia’s birthday just two weeks away, I feel that old sense of anticipation and expectation. And though I’m not packing for a hospital stay as I was last year, I am packing for a trip—Lucia and I are heading to Jacksonville tomorrow, just the two of us, spending a few days with Granny and GrandBob and going to a wedding while Andrew is in Germany. If we can survive the three-hour flight, it will be a lovely weekend.
I am, however, jealous of Andrew’s trip, even though it’s crazily work-intensive without much (or any) time for sight-seeing. Still, the thought of a long transatlantic flight, an eye mask, some wine, a darkened plane, makes me wish I, too, could have a Europe-bound adventure. We’re talking about a long weekend in Paris or Rome sometime this winter, but in the meantime, it’s just me and Lucia here at home, putting blocks and toys into a bowl and dumping them out again, knocking different toys together to hear the sounds, balancing plastic rings on our heads, swiping things off the coffee table.
I am, however, jealous of Andrew’s trip, even though it’s crazily work-intensive without much (or any) time for sight-seeing. Still, the thought of a long transatlantic flight, an eye mask, some wine, a darkened plane, makes me wish I, too, could have a Europe-bound adventure. We’re talking about a long weekend in Paris or Rome sometime this winter, but in the meantime, it’s just me and Lucia here at home, putting blocks and toys into a bowl and dumping them out again, knocking different toys together to hear the sounds, balancing plastic rings on our heads, swiping things off the coffee table.
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