I accompanied my mother the last time she went to the dining room. She seemed relieved to be able to ride the elevator and go down for dinner. "You know, I was afraid my body was falling apart." Young inside, fiercely independent. That was the last time she had dinner with her contemporaries in her hometown in Marin, January 1995. She died that spring as I boarded a train to Graz.
My father died at about my age, on the highway from Napa to Vallejo. In his pocket, he had financial security. He had worked hard for this, hardly a measure of his greatness. He and my mother were thinking about a country home in the Alexander Valley. Never got there, never retired. I returned from Germany in 1975 to say good bye.
My parents supported me in Boulder, years which I forever treasure. There, personal and intellectual things changed me profoundly--I found love, children, idealism, poetry. I grew up much too fast then, but the lessons and themes woven into my life are inextricably still me. Though I have set aside these from time to time--having to work and survive the excuse--they pop out of secret places, as they must. And thus again, as I think of you
Through these threads, I find hope and tender remembrance of those dearest and our happy times.
In 1999, I returned again to the US, this time on the suspicion that I needed to be close to loved ones. Believing lease-end's near, I left my personal dream for others and health, and for me. Christmas that year was simple and modest; 2000 brought work and the repairs necessary for heart and pocketbook. I have been able to visit loved ones. It has been sweet, and refreshing.
I have traveled almost a full circle now, just a few miles from Marin. I feel young inside, independent. And I am looking forward to retreat from the world to treasure first loves. Back, closer to the dream. (Better for me to appreciate America from a distance.)
I live in Healdsburg now. I am able to smell the smells of the California countryside, the hills and valleys in fog--the Pacific and San Francisco not far away-- deep and plentiful cool air in the rain. I am a mile from the entrance to the Alexander Valley. With my spirit rich in life's lessons and recurrent themes, I have the security and strength I need. And I thank my parents and life for the gifts come closer and together. They strangely give a sense of meaning and purpose in a circular logic I cannot escape, and don't want to.
I am sorry I cannot be with you this holiday season, or take you with me where the journey may lead next. But you are forever close in my heart. May these moments bring us closer and remember the good and happiness and beauty that keep us ever young and living strong against what would discourage lesser spirits.
