Vacation

Frances and I are travelling this week - Vegas, Palm Springs and Northern California.

OF COURSE, because I exceed any measurement of "predictible," I went to the Donny and Marie show while we were in Vegas.   I was there as a recurring nod to my own 70's fan history of course, but even more so, I was there knowing that Marie lost her son to suicide.  It comforts me, in an "I am so glad the lights are down so I can cry" sort of way, to hear her very gracefully acknowledge both the pain of the loss of her son and the excitement she feels as her own life continues to unfold.   It's probably only 90 seconds of the show's content, if that, but it was the heart of the show for me.  A good evening.

Travelling is tricky business.  Jolted out of routines and without access to some of the things that make daily life our own - favorite foods, control of the car keys and the TV remote, friends down the street - there is a certain spiritual starkness to it all.  Here I am.  This is me.  Who the heck am I?   

The thinking time is good - probably necessary - but the demons lurk in the corners and despite the fun and the beauty and the reconnections that this trip has offered, a piece of me will be very happy to roll into my own bed tomorrow night.