going-away party
I subjected my mom to my horse friends tonight. They threw me a big going away party at the farm, complete with the presents I insisted there not be, and food aplenty. Friends came from all over, old friends, new friends, young and grownup, the whole gamut. I arrived on the scene and Eric served me some wine in his characteristic gentlemanly style (no, he is not the butler! he's just hilarious). All the girls gave me hugs. Audrey had blown up the cute photos of Saturn she took a few weeks back and put them on the table where everyone could see. Mum had made chocolate Nanaimo bars (a Canadian specialty), and the entire pan disappeared well before the evening came to a close.
When we finally arrived home (nearly midnight), I asked her how she enjoyed the party. I knew it was longer than she wanted to stay, but I was having so much fun. She had looked tired but not entirely inconvenienced. She had chatted at length with several of my friends, I assumed about real estate or art or our small town politics. I knew they'd all help her fit in. I guess it shouldn't have been much of a surprise that they they talked a lot about me. Mom couldn't believe Cindy said I was the only one she allowed to ride her horse, or that Mrs. Edwards, after all she had done for me this year, had bothered to send away for a special electrical adapter for me to bring along to Bolivia.
In general, she said, she couldn't get over how impressed they all seemed by me. (I've got a standard response to that when it comes to the people I love. "Likewise.") I sensed her perception shifting a little bit -- that maybe her daughter isn't crazy, irresponsible and disagreeable.
My own spirit is practically buoyant, floating on love and hope.
I had planned a toast, but a few glasses of wine later completely forgot to give. It was going to be short. "Thanks everyone, for making this such a difficult place to leave, and such a wonderful place to come home."
When we finally arrived home (nearly midnight), I asked her how she enjoyed the party. I knew it was longer than she wanted to stay, but I was having so much fun. She had looked tired but not entirely inconvenienced. She had chatted at length with several of my friends, I assumed about real estate or art or our small town politics. I knew they'd all help her fit in. I guess it shouldn't have been much of a surprise that they they talked a lot about me. Mom couldn't believe Cindy said I was the only one she allowed to ride her horse, or that Mrs. Edwards, after all she had done for me this year, had bothered to send away for a special electrical adapter for me to bring along to Bolivia.
In general, she said, she couldn't get over how impressed they all seemed by me. (I've got a standard response to that when it comes to the people I love. "Likewise.") I sensed her perception shifting a little bit -- that maybe her daughter isn't crazy, irresponsible and disagreeable.
My own spirit is practically buoyant, floating on love and hope.
I had planned a toast, but a few glasses of wine later completely forgot to give. It was going to be short. "Thanks everyone, for making this such a difficult place to leave, and such a wonderful place to come home."