My stay in Willows is coming to an end, and with that a bittersweetness seeps into the cracks of days gone by, many days gone by, and the days to come. Coming and going has a way of raising havoc in my French American life. I am fortunate to have love and life on both sides of the world, I do not take any of it for granted. Though there is a gap between the two, a great deal of miles, that gap separates me from the everyday of these two wonderful lives and love. Most of the time I hold the two in a way that keeps me from becoming overly sentimental, but when the gap nears, when I have to leave one for the other, well the emotional rollercoaster begins. Hence, I am there.
Up, down, sideways and standing still.
During these times memories filter in jumbling the moment at hand with other moments spent. "Remember when we did this…" Or, "I guess you were in France during that time…" Whenever I come back to my childhood home it is apparent to me how long I have been away, and yet I am here and yet not here. It is odd to explain, by the time I am feeling – fitting into the groove of my family's lives I am boarding a plane to return to my other life.
Children grow up, it is a measuring stick of time.
(Chelsea six months old, her first trip to the States. Photo taken in Willows.)
My dad with Sam, Chelsea, Patti and Andy.
Where is Sacha?
This photo was taken on Sacha's first trip to Willows, he was 19 months old. On that trip we stayed three months as I was recuperating from chemotherapy.
When we arrived this was the welcome Patti gave Chelsea.
I made the dress Patti is wearing.
My brothers and their children during a holiday I missed.
A family photo when I came back from the monastery.
My brothers and dad years ago.
Halloween at home, my mother with Sam and Sacha.
Our memories are a source of conversation, they come up, over and over as if needing air. They are memories buried underneath other memories, layers upon layers, like photos stacked in a box waiting to be sorted.
Memories are there to show us who we are and where we have come from.
And with that I hold on to the goodness on both sides of the gap, while trying not to get over emotional about it, while trying not to think about what if, and what is, and what will certainly come.
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