One Week From Today is Mother's Day

I keep waiting for my writing tone to change. But, since the fall of 2020, it really hasn't. Perhaps in some ways I was just waiting for the a global pandemic to come to highlight the injustice and inequity, the sadness and despair, the loss, and-- ultimately-- to give me permission to write.

I feel like I need to apologize to any readers for sounding melancholic, but if you are here, I guess that you must have accepted that this is my voice. So, I'm sorry? And, thank you.

It has been a hard year. Middle-age is a real thing: 22 years in a profession makes you wonder if you have another 22 in you -- it makes you cranky and skeptical of structures; parents aging and joining something larger in the universe makes you wonder who you are as a parent AND a child, and who your children are and will be; teenage struggles and mental health will take the wind right out of you; wars have broken out and you are constantly aware of your own good fortune; and then there's the striving to have some sort of hobby, something that will take up space in the life that you built without it. So, I find myself wondering if I should take up crochet or return to the piano. A good friend has just become a master baker, but the truth is that I'm terrible with hobbies. My mom was too. She read, but when she struggled with following the plot, she'd just get annoyed with the novel. Though it took a bit, I eventually realized why she hadn't enjoyed many novels in the last year or so. So, I guess that I'll table the hobby for now.

Living far away from all of the spaces that signified 'home' means that you don't have the walls that heard shared laughter or the counters that mom left her cream cheese out on. Mom didn't stash candy in this house or spoil the girls with cookies and ice cream. And, there's no official address anymore that I fully understand. Apparently I received a package the other week but did not make it to the post office in time to pick it up. And, without the Polish language, I couldn't really ask what happens. I guess it'll go back to where it came from. Don't get me wrong, this isn't a complaint. In truth, it's rather fitting; it could even be a metaphor. But, it's not one that I'm willing to develop or unpack now.

I've felt really disconnected from losing my mom because-- while I think about her constantly-- I'm in a new space. She didn't really know our life here, and people here don't know her. Six weeks from now we will be returning to Pittsburgh, and I am looking forward to sitting with the box of cards that my dad has received and sitting around at FCRC. I'm hopeful that things will feel less isolating when back on some well trodden paths.

My dad visited a few weeks ago. We met with him in London where we spent time with Dona, his second cousin, and someone who has opened her door to my wandering self since I was 19 years old. Easter was spent touring The Globe theater and having a beer on the Thames. We had a chocolate egg hunt in the garden and then brought Nini back to Poland with us. He toured Treblinka and Warsaw, attended school (where he came to class wearing his "Village Idiots Book Club" t-shirt and the school play: The Laramie Project). We went out with our FRAMILY (friends-family), and we honored mom on her birthday by volunteering downtown with Smile Warsaw, scooping rice and curry onto plates for Warsaw's homeless, something we are trying to do most Sundays. Seeing our life through his eyes was a gift.

There is also a lot to be said for traveling new paths. And, we've been able to do that a ton. In February, we headed off to Taninges, France, following our new friends, Eoin, Kate and Paul Lennon to their apartment. We stayed in an Air B and B near some goats, and I skied for the first time in a very long time, often concluding the day with shaking legs. We found an old monastery full of sculptures before driving back through Stein am Rhein, Switzerland.

And we just headed off to Athens and Santorini to study mythology and jump into the Aegean. The water was freezing-- the air too, for that matter-- but we did reap the rewards of sulfur infused water as we swam over the mouth of the volcano. Wandering Delphi and the Parthenon also reminded us of our size. The earth has been around for a long time, and humans have told and continue to tell remarkable stories. Whether studying how Hephaestus was born from Zeus's leg or asking our boat guide about his thoughts on the war in Ukraine, we continue to ask questions and learn. You'll find Phoebe's rendering of the gods below. My Buffalo Book Club (TNBG) will enjoy whatever presentation comes from this trip!