I was moving from one conference to another. The one in LA ended Friday afternoon. The one in Banff started Monday morning. And there was Easter in between. After staring at flights for a long time, I realised that the best solution would be to fly to Salt Lake to visit my parents over the weekend, then fly to Calgary. Their house is roughly equally spaced between the airports, there were direct flights to both, and although it might cost a bit more in flights, I would save $500 in hotel fees. That was my pitch to the university travel agency, at least, and it worked.
My mom announced a gathering. I would only be around for one full day, let's bring everybody in to say hello.
And she did. And it was really, truly lovely. All these people, who I love, but who I never see anymore, came to say hello.
I took some photos, but nothing systematic, so I probably missed other people who I love.
They came from all over the state. There was talking and laughing and food and chaos.
My sister wrote in her newsletter entry that: "It was fun to hang out again, felt like old times when I was a kid and like 40 people were in the house (and by ‘house’ I mean kitchen, dining room, and front room) and everything was very busy."
Somehow that's always the house that I see when visiting my parents, but I guess that's because I don't see them much, so I'm part of the busy people. Whereas my sister lives nearby, and visits when it is quiet, and just my two parents rattle around in that house that used to hold bazillions of us.
The reality in my memory doesn't match the reality on the ground. I still hold on to events and actions that made strong impressions. My parents don't remember any of that. It is not their reality at all.
Melancholy.
There was a bit of light rain and snow, with clouds covering the mountains that ordinarily stand vigil out the front door.
Still striking to see the low mountains from the high school parking lot.
And then Sunday morning I flew out to Canada.
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