Today, I set my passport out on the counter – of course I have no clothes packed, nor do I even have a suitcase selected, but tomorrow this time, I will be on my way to Boston to see Elise and Scott.
Now, it may not seem to make a good bit of sense that I need a passport to get into Boston, but we actually drive south from here in the Great White North, to get to Canada, then over to Niagara Falls where we will re-enter the US and drive on to New England.
If I forget my passport – as could easily happen – we will drive the long way. Even though the drive through Canada, I am told is about as exciting as I-75 through Ohio, custom officials must have official documents to let us in and out. This document not long ago was practically an empty blue book, but the last four years have opened it wide and brought the world to my fingertips.
As I thumb through the now worn pages, I see the many stamps returning into China. Each bears a date, several of which are January and August, all representing a time home with the kids and reconnecting with my special life back in the US. I especially enjoy visiting in my mind, my winter holidays, when I would return to Tennessee around Thanksgiving and stay until Nick left to go back to school in January. Both of those winters, I substitute taught at Franklin High School where I reconnected with old friends and enjoyed the classroom experience again.
A favorite activity during those times home in Tennessee was the grocery visit. This ritual that was so rote and usual before moving to China, but coming home with a new viewing lens, the grocery came alive with readable labels, recognizable pre-packaged products, big push baskets, and the sweet familiarity of home. Of course, I would pause in the meat section to muse back on whole plucked ducks hanging, bins of bony little chicken feet, live, squirming snakes and frogs, but I did not miss them too much. I really do like having no idea of the origins of my meat. In Kroger, meat looks like it was born on yellow Styrofoam and wrapped in plastic, as it should be.
Grocery store visits also meant I was cooking for the family. My meal planning expanded from quiet dinners with Roger and me, to Elise and Nick – possibly their friends, extended family and more. I bought turkeys, packaged bags of stuffing, cranberries, and all the fixings to remind us of bounty and rituals that warm our hearts. My cart overflowed with bags of chips, jars of salsa, jugs of fresh milk (we did not buy that in China) and all the reminders that our home would once again serve as a gathering place.
I close the passport and again remind myself that life is different now. Change is inevitable and change is life. Change is also not easy and takes great adjustment. But, I have great blessings to ease me through and give me a cushion in these seasons of change. Elise, my leprechaun, turns 25 on St. Patty’s Day, and we will be with her and our wonderful son-in-law to celebrate. She will finish graduate school in May, and is looking for a job in the noble field of college counseling for urban youths. Scott continues to make great strides in his research at Massachusetts General Hospital. We burst with pride for these fine kids and their contributions to the world.
While I look back at my passport, a stamp book that holds so many stories of romance, adventure, home and family, I also think back on the change that brought sorrow into our lives. I have to step back and relive the happiness in the memories and acknowledge the blessings that enrich my life every day. And, Wednesday, I will be in the presence of my family --- Roger, my hero and daughter, Elise, Scott – and the memory and spirit of Nicholas. My blessings are great, and I do need to pack my clothes.
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