We’re back in Cinci now. We came in last night on the elusive Donna’s 43rd birthday! We went out to eat with her whole xtended family short her brother’s fam from Kansas. Good times. I still haven’t adjusted, even after 2 weeks in the U.S. to the portions here. Everything is jumbo sized to start with and you can go up from there. I think this trip has super sized me. Today we’ve cleaned more at her parent’s old place which has been green-lighted to go on the market which will hopefully lead to a quick sale.
My friend David Wolfenberger has a brilliant song that I’ll quote here one day but the chorus declares that he wants to be buried in the old family place in rural Illinois, even though he “love(s) these Cincinnati hills”. It’s an insightful metaphor that I’ve experienced on this very trip. I’ve found that the desperation I felt to get away from Illinois, the smallness I perceived, the cornfields that surrounded me, the complete lack of adventure I felt seems so inconceivable. I love the road I’ve travelled and the places I’ve been but I suspect right now that everything I’ve ever looked for was right where my road started.
So when it comes time, bury me in the good, black, Illinois soil where almost anything can grow.
We’ll be back home on the Island by week’s end and I can hardly wait to be with my friends and family there again. Regular daily blogs will resume on Tuesday!