Dear Mago,
I just booked a flight “home” yesterday, realizing that I need another sweet moment with mother Anne, before it is too late. I am hoping that she stays well enough until I arrive Easter week. My brother Stephen (alias your first grandson) now living in Boston, will join me in San Francisco, and my sister (alias only your other granddaughter) Carolyn and I are already practicing the harmonies of some traditional spirituals, like a bluegrass gospel version of “My heavenly home”, to share over there:
“… Beyond this world there is a place
Where we shall have eternal grace
Where fragrant springtime breezes blow
Where trees stand tall and flowers grow
And the clear and peaceful waters flow…”
In the meantime, a jam session with my favorite godson, a cross-country skiing excursion, a birthday celebration, a choir and solo concert, a public talk about a couple of personal films, a long weekend with close friends in Berlin, five more weeks of work, and more await. I am sill alive.
Your devoted granddaughter
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I didn't want to comment on this blog before because I felt as though I'd be intruding, or that I'd better think twice before I say something dumb. What I want to say now is: I wonder what it is that makes me feel as though I might be intruding or dumb? Is it your blog or is it me? What do I need to hear in order to feel welcome in your presence? All of a sudden - after weeks, months, years of reflection- I realized that I have to learn to take more space (=cyberspace?), at least when I have done plenty of homework and soul-searching. All of a sudden - after weeks, months, years of reflection- I realized that even people like you, who are a source of inspiration/coaxing/provocation can appreciate a sign of life from me. Or am I just talking to myself?
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