I am staying in the home of friend Pat for the remainder of my stay in California, then to Vancouver for two days with a friend and then to my own apartment. I have given up the hotel life for the time being, perhaps forever.
I love being in a home. There are cookbooks, there are magazines, there are books, there are treasured memorabilia. I feel at home even though this is not my home. There are paintings on the walls, personal paintings. I do admit that I do not see the Lion’s Gate Bridge, Stanley Park, Coal Harbor. Nor do I see huge cruise boats creeping into dock in the early morning. There are no mountains. There is a pool here but no jacuzzi. But there is a bathtub and I luxuriated in my baby bubble bath. I do my best thinking in the water, be it bath or jacuzzi. I pop a bagel in the toaster for an easy breakfast. Pat made the coffee so I do not, as yet, need instructions from Glenda. I will jump into my rental car and meet Yoshi for lunch at our favorite restaurant, the Ping and then for a visit at a care facility. I guess to the storage space where my possessions have sat alone and unattended for three years, to sort and add. I thought I was coming back to these possessions permanently – but not. Many things intervened and I have made a life elsewhere, in the land of my birth Canada.
In some ways it is now the best of all worlds. Emails from the Trump and those in Vancouver and elsewhere telling me that they miss me. So a sense of permanence is predominant. Old friends eager to see me – some not but there are only so many hours in a day, so no problem.
It is finally cool here and there is a slight breeze flowing through the open window. I hear birds, I feel peace. I have come home, not quite yet but this is definitely the starter of a wonderful several course meal. (hopefully). I am, after all, seventy four.
My new apartment has such luxuries as black out curtains and a fire place. A coffee maker but Glenda has promised to come and teach me how to use it – as she did at the Trump International Hotel. There is a kitchen and room for cook books. I can subscribe to magazines again. I will accumulate memorabilia again. My sofa can become a queen sized bed for visitors. I wonder how being in my place will effect this blog. I guess we can only wait and see. Blogging is so solitary, recently I find myself reaching out to friends and sharing a correspondence and this takes priority over the blog. The Atlantic article explained a lot but writing about it has to wait because I have a life to lead today.
The picture is one of some members of my “family” who I will be with in a few days.
