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Monday, August 6, 2012

The Bath Whately Prep p.35

The magazine left a message requesting that I FedEx back some of the hardcopy I was marking up.  I was a bit annoyed by their intrusion on our family time; however, I didn't want to slow down production. 
"Kids? Who wants to go for a walk?  Come on, turn off the t.v.."  The more I think about it, the more I embrace the idea. 
"Come on, bugs-in-a-rug, let's get going."  
Ever since learning that Gillian passed, I can’t settle.  The universe has shifted with her passing. I want to be back home with Julia. I told her I planned to pack up the kids and join her.  She was adamant that she wanted to be join us on the Island and she’d be down Saturday. Gillian would have a memorial service, according to her wishes, in the fall when the students return to school.  As organized as she was, her death was orchestrated as tightly as opening night with the Boston Symphony Orchestra.  
I had defer to Julia because I want her to be at ease with the situation. I know the strain this loss places on her.
I wanted to ask if she has informed her mother, but I didn’t have it in me to face whatever emotional content that might release.  We kept our conversation short.
With very little urging, the kids agree to walk down to the Oak Bluffs harbor. At the far end, we will drop my package in the Federal Express Box that sits in the Our Market lot.  Sarah toddles alongside the stroller for the half mile walk to the Fed -Ex box.  Sarah insists that she drop the package in the box while I hold her up.  After that excitement, she is too tired to continue.  She climbs into her stroller willingly.  Marshall agrees to push Sarah, which surprises me because it is not the coolest thing for an adolescent boy to be seen doing.  We stop at Mad Martha’s for three ice creams; Sarah is already asleep. When we get home, I try reaching Julia after I get Julia tucked in. No answer.  I would be concerned, but I know when life is hardest for her, she retreats to water.  She’s probably in her bath.

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