Now having a child makes me think an awful lot about family.

What is family? How do we define it? How do our children recognize it? How does something as random as biology compare to the other bonds that we share by choice? For me and mine, I think that all are important. Maybe the ones that we share the most quality time with have the most effect on us, but then again, the lady in the check-out line at the grocery might also wield her influence. Every little interaction makes a ripple, and like they say, it takes a village.

Raising a child is not easy. In fact, I think that if we did not have a biological urge to procreate, far less of us would do it. It takes a certain selflessness that I have not encountered in any other occupation. This being said, like any difficult task at hand, the more you put into it, the more you get out of it. The love we give to Ana comes back to us ten-fold. But on the days when she is sick, or we are sick, or work is busy, or life is busy, it is imperative that we have family to fall back on. And while our nearest genetically related relatives are several thousand miles away, we are fortunate for our family of friends, colleagues, Ana's Tias and Tios, caretakers, and even the lady at the grocery that provokes a toothless smile.

...a few photos enjoying time with family at the IMA.

Good Ol' Rocky Top

It has taken me quite a few years and countless miles traveled to finally figure out that while place is important, the things you do and the people that you surround yourself with are far more important predictors of happiness. A few years ago I stopped running. I let my demons catch up with me and I put them to rest. Now, this doesn't mean that they never resurface, but my moral fiber, support network, and firmly planted feet are able to deal with them.

For awhile, I had felt a great deal of nostalgia for one of the places that I left and not revisited. This place, where I had lived and loved and transitioned from child to adult held such strong memories that had often hit me over the years with a wave of incomprehensible longing. What ifs. Just a few weeks ago, I headed down to the great state of Tennessee after having fled six years ago. As fate would have it, I finally returned to Knoxville to visit a great friend met in Saudi Arabia. My past lives had weirdly come full circle, meeting squarely on the banks of the Tennessee River. 

After the long drive South and a short visit spent walking around town, visiting old haunts, picking up right where we left off, and discussing the future, I feel like I put some closure on that place of the past. It was wonderful to explore where I once lived with both my husband and good friend, but that place is no longer my home, nor do I wish it to be. Rather it is the home of my friends whom I would be happy to visit anywhere in the world.

reunited at last! 

goings on in Market Square

someone is sick of having his picture taken...

Ayres is so quiet on a Sunday morning in July!

Neyland Stadium

very funny boys...

that little blue house...

hangin' out at IC King

It is hard to see in the picture but that is, in fact, a redneck on a pontoon with a giant flag flappin' in the breeze. Amurica, F*** ya! ...Dad, don't get any ideas...

view from the Sunsphere!

I said a final tearful goodbye to friends I might never see again, or at the very least will not see for a long time.  We shared a last supper and talked about memories and good times and who know's what is to come in the future.  As I cycled through the night to my taxi rendezvous point I let the sadness well up inside of me and overflow.  The warm humid evening mixed well with my tears.  I was not and am not sad because I don't want to leave.  I know that it is time to move on and I look forward to beginning a new journey.  But there is something incredibly emotional about realizing that a chapter of your life has ended.  That as much as you will remember that time in your life, it will henceforward dwell in the past.  And things will be forgotten.  Relationships will become more distant and that something that was your everything will be not.

But when the times of change come rolling in we can choose to remain in place and be pummeled by the waves or we can float along with them.  Have a good cry and then move forward.

And there is nothing like German competency and a comfortable ride in Lufthansa business class to take the sting off of a goodbye.  In all these years of midnight travels in and out of Saudi land, it is my final flight in which I win the lucky free upgrade.  The gods must be smiling upon me.  Now, well rested and refreshed I write to you in transit from Frankfurt.  I know this airport like the back of my hand after all the years of coming and going but now that I move back to the western side of the world it might be a long time before I return.  So, in contrast to the usual, I will enjoy my layover.  See you on the other side.

We have just about come to the end of one road and the start of another.  Personal life, professional life, and more or less all I have known of adult life, is soon to change.

This marathon in the desert is nearing completion, just a few more miles to go.  I am trying to keep my eye on the end while not forgetting to enjoy the scenery.  It is not always easy.  Some days I want to rush it, to fly through these remaining 63, and just have it over and done with.  To move back to green spaces, to have that thesis written, to have the "I dos" said.  But, they say, that this time of trapezes, when you are not still here but also yet to arrive there, should be appreciated.  So, I'm going to try to work on that.  But still, I'm ready for June to be here.  Three and a half years seems like enough.

Photo above taken during our recent road trip in Colombia.

So, I am really behind on my story sharing here.  Blah!  Its been over two weeks since we returned from France.  After which, we had a crazy last week at home for the year, and then we departed on our holiday adventures.  Thirty hours later, we had flown halfway around the world and said our goodbyes to each other as he departed for South America and I departed for North.  

And north I went.  Into the cold and frozen heartland, home to many feets of snow, icy lakes, blizzards, and sparkling trees.  Of the conifer variety.  Twinkling in the night with little red do-dads and green babbles.  In this region, it is cold but the people are not.  They gather in fire-warmed houses, eating the sweet treats of the season and spreading their cheer.  We always joke about folks from the Midwest.  You meet them on a plane or a train or in the grocery line and they will tell you their life's story.  They will chat to you about your day and give you recommendations for which dishes to try.  Spend thirty minutes with them and you will be invited over for dinner.  Because they are a cheery people.  When the world freezes over and there are no blossoms to bloom and no bees buzzing in the air, you pass the time with people.  Gathering.  Rejoicing.  Waiting for spring.

But today I am leaving.  I am headed to Colombia to spend my first Christmas down south.  Another Latino Adventure.  More posts to come on France, and Indiana, and Colombia....

Why do so many people love to go to France for vacation?

French cities, and even small ones like Perpignan, just seem to have been built to promote quality human existence.  Now, I stress quality here because quantity was most certainly not the objective.  You, your ten children, your Escalade, and your two-pound bags of shredded cheddar are just not going to fit in a twenty square-meter apartment.  But, a cozy four-some sipping Banyuls and nibbling on Roquefort is not out of the question and rather, the gathering of folks to enjoy something really tasty is the norm and even expected.  

On the way home from work, you might stop by the marché and pick up some fresh goods from your favorite vendor.  You stop to chat about the new leeks that have just come in, but also you catch up a bit on each others' lives.  You make your purchase and say your goodbyes knowing that you will be back again tomorrow.  As you continue home, you pass half a dozen fromageries, boulangeries, and patiseries with warm lights aglow beaconing you to their wares.  And while all of this can also be had in any Walmart or supermarket the world-over, it is not the same, is it?  When was the last time you reveled in the plumpness of a fresh persimmon with your local Big-Box man?      

We, the French-enthusiast vacationers love to go to France purely for the pleasure of walking around.  Because unlike so much of the world, you can do that in French cities without being obstructed by mega-highways, parking-lot deserts, or mountains of human filth.  You can wander with helpless abandon to your heart's content, or your feet's pity.  You can explore the little one-of-a-kind shops and stop for a coffee in the square.  And we love this.  I don't know a human that doesn't.  So, all snobbery aside, why don't more cities act like the French?  

scenes from home

Pablo has been gone for the past week.  He was talking about fish in Australia.  He comes home today!  I have been holding down the fort in his absence and while we have a pretty sweet home, its just not the same without him.  The cozy couch with the white slip-cover that I made seems just too big for one, and our baby-love that is the avocado plant (can you believe how much its grown?) is a bit sad without his latino parent, even the sunny porch feels a bit more vacant.

But I ask myself, and I've talked with friends about this topic, how did we get to this point?  Just a short while ago, we were all solitary warriors without partners to fill up the spaces.  And maybe some would call this dependence or laziness, to feel a bit empty without the other, but I'd also argue that only when you've shared your whole heart can you experience such longing.  And to know that in sharing your soul you might feel some angst, well that certainly has to be courageous.