Saturday, September 15, 2007

One Week to Go

I talked to both of my children this morning. Jesse was cleaning the house (you go girl!) and Bo was watching my Grand babies. GBN1 informed me that "Sophie was crying because she missed Booboo so much!" Then she put the phone near GBN2, a button got pushed, and she said, "Are you still there - Oh no, Sophie pushed a button!" Bo took the phone away from them at that point. Well I miss them too. It will be good to get home and back to the regular routine. But I am doing pretty good. With one week to go, I am still enjoying myself. This morning we found an awesome place that serves normal breakfast. It was yummy, and Toby and I were little pigs.

Several years ago when we were in Italy, I did not do so well. About three weeks into our stay, I got this overwhelming feeling of loneliness. I can't really explain it, and it is not like me to feel that way. Maybe it was because I did not have the internet to communicate with friends and loved ones. Maybe it was because my dad had been diagnosed with cancer and was at MD Anderson while I was in Italy, and I was worried about him. Maybe it was because there were very few people around me that spoke English. Normal conversation was nil. I just know that I had this feeling of deep sadness and felt like I could break down. It was not long lasting. I had Jesse and Toby and Italy to make me happy. Then Bo came over to stay the last week with us and that was a real joy.

I don't think I have ever felt that way before or since. In a way, I am glad that I experienced that deep loneliness, because it enabled me to know what other must go through when they are far from home and loved ones without an easy way to communicate with family - like our military folks. It makes me want to help - to try to bring joy and take away the sadness if I am able. I don't know that I do much, but I kow that letters and communication is good.


Jo Castillo said...

The time goes by fast. Seems like you just left. We ate at a chain called White Spot for breakfast and also Smitty's back east. Don't know if they are there, though. We ate at White Spots in B.C.

Well, enjoy your time. After living overseas I know how special it is to come home, too.


Becky said...

I'm with Jo. Time does go by so fast. It doesn't seem like three weeks since you left.

I can relate to the lonely feeling. When I was stationed in Italy, it was before the days of computers. Telephone calls were expensive and best saved for special occasions. Letters from home were like life blood to us, and packages were a bit of Heaven. I can well remember sitting around reading my dad's letters to those on my watch, and sharing the peanut butter fudge my uncle sent me for my birthday. One year my sister sent me a package for my birthday. I had lamented on the phone to her that one thing I missed over there was 16 oz Dr Peppers in the bottles. All we had over there was cans. So she made me some chocolate chip cookies, put them in an aluminum pie plate and covered it with foil. She then put the cookies in a box with three 16 oz. bottles of Dr Pepper and mailed it. By the time it got to me, well, let's just say I've seen grains of sand bigger than those cookie crumbs.

Bag Blog said...

Jo, I have not seen a White Spots, but I have seen Smitty's advertised. We are in Calgary Centre with no car. We use the light rail, but mostly we walk. Most of the breakfast places here in downtown are coffee houses with muffins, cookies and donunts. I scramble eggs or have cereal, but not a full blown breakfast. That is why we were so excited about this place that served a sit-down, all-out breakfast. It is the little things that make our day:)

Becky, We all drank orange Fantas while in Italy because the Dr. Peppers and Cokes were just not the same.

Becky said...

We had soft drinks imported just for us, but they weren't the same. Sometimes they had been left out in the sun a long time. Imagine if you will, a pale pink Dr Pepper can. If you got one of those out of the machine, you knew right away it wasn't worth drinking.