I’m on the first leg of a journey to Greece with my wonderful husband: taxi to train station in Providence, Amtrak to NYC Penn Station, meet him under the departure board and together take LIRR to Airtrain to JFK, flight to Athens. For some this would be daunting. Me, I’ve always loved trains and planes gobbling up miles and depositing me somewhere faraway. Maybe it comes from dreaming of those faraway places as a little girl. I used to write down names of countries and study maps for fun. As soon as I earned enough money to buy a plane ticket I did: $99 round trip on delta from Logan Airport to Bermuda. I was sixteen years old and I’ve never really stopped since then. Travel is not only fun and exciting for me, it’s also a comfort. So it’s no surprise that this year, after losing my beloved Gogo, I’ve been on the road a lot. London to see my fabulous son Sam in THE DIANA TAPES; Paris with Annabelle; Dingle Ireland with both of my wonderful kids and Cousin Gina; and today on the road again with my love headed to Greece. Excitement mounts as I take this Amtrak train to meet him under that sign!
When I get home, I begin the sad task of packing up Gogo’s house, a house that has been in my family since the 1880s when my great grandparents arrived from Italy. No one has left it since. Until now. I still haven’t returned since Valentine’s Day when I raced there to get my mom in the ambulance. But return I must. To pack and sort and even give away the very things I’ve spent my whole life amongst. How I am dreading this process! So for today I will board a jet, drink champagne, play cards with my wonderful husband, read a book or knit or watch a movie, and ten hours later step into the hot bright sun of a new Athens’ day. We will explore an island and drink wine with friends. We will swim and gape at the beautiful ruins. And we will explore the ancient ruins, what is left behind by long gone people who lived and loved too. For a few moments or a few days there will be just this. Another form of comfort for broken hearts.
When I get home, I begin the sad task of packing up Gogo’s house, a house that has been in my family since the 1880s when my great grandparents arrived from Italy. No one has left it since. Until now. I still haven’t returned since Valentine’s Day when I raced there to get my mom in the ambulance. But return I must. To pack and sort and even give away the very things I’ve spent my whole life amongst. How I am dreading this process! So for today I will board a jet, drink champagne, play cards with my wonderful husband, read a book or knit or watch a movie, and ten hours later step into the hot bright sun of a new Athens’ day. We will explore an island and drink wine with friends. We will swim and gape at the beautiful ruins. And we will explore the ancient ruins, what is left behind by long gone people who lived and loved too. For a few moments or a few days there will be just this. Another form of comfort for broken hearts.
