I was roaming through the bookstore with no idea what I was looking for. It was such a treat to be able to read all the titles. (Add this to the multitude of things I’ve taken for granted before this last year.) It was not crowded so I could wander the aisles in my normal clockwise fashion: recommended reads, fiction, mystery, poetry, YA, memoirs, travel, music.
The first title that caught my eye also gave me a start: When in French: Love in a Second Language by Lauren Collins. North Carolina girl falls in love with French man, communication develops in English, they marry and she delves into the French language. On the book jacket cover, I read that she told her mom “she’s given birth to a coffee machine.”
I told my boyfriend’s mom I liked her dead fish as I watched her fish tank (not realizing there were two Spanish words for fish with one being food and the other a live fish).
I’m not sure I’m ready to read it. I know I want to do so, but my face is still a little metaphorically wet from my accidental wash with our bidet.
Monday, January 23, 2017
Monday, January 16, 2017
Miss Betty
I had not seen him in over a decade, but I had heard the news.
They had been married for nearly 60 years.
Pneumonia had taken her lungs.
She would never recover.
What do you do with the machine?
After the decision, they sat together for an entire day.
Three was the hour but that pushed into four.
It wasn't easy to say good-bye.
How do you find the strength?
I didn't know what to say.
We talked about the birthday we celebrated.
We talked about the family.
We talked about her.
He had tears in his eyes and pain in his heart.
He had a smile and a big hug for me.
I gave him a helium filled decoration.
He accepted it.
And then I watched him walk away trailing a green balloon.
They had been married for nearly 60 years.
Pneumonia had taken her lungs.
She would never recover.
What do you do with the machine?
After the decision, they sat together for an entire day.
Three was the hour but that pushed into four.
It wasn't easy to say good-bye.
How do you find the strength?
I didn't know what to say.
We talked about the birthday we celebrated.
We talked about the family.
We talked about her.
He had tears in his eyes and pain in his heart.
He had a smile and a big hug for me.
I gave him a helium filled decoration.
He accepted it.
And then I watched him walk away trailing a green balloon.
Saturday, January 7, 2017
Mira tu Paso
Frequently, I think of A Year in the Merde by Stephen Clarke. Though a different language, I'm developing a new set of observations and humorous anecdotes from spending a heap of time in another country.
I have reached the point in the immersion experience where people do not automatically know that I am (North) American after my first few words. I've recently had a waiter think I was from Brazil after I managed to maintain a conversation throughout dinner. I don't always know what others are thinking but after an extended interaction there is a visible undercurrent of confusion/suspicion until eventually I explain that "I'm not from around here". The next statement is always "ooohhhhhhh" and faces change. The interactions turn a little less stilted and the other parties lose their assumption that my IQ hasn't quite made the charts. Frequently I will catch someone surveying my clothing - top to bottom and then bottom to top (and last night, a woman did this cycle twice). While at times it's uncomfortable, it's nonetheless interesting, and at times amusing.
My first trip, I was worried about standing out, but over this stay I've come to realize that I will always do just that. The color of my skin, the lilt in my voice, my body shape, the things I say when I step in dog mierda (BA has this in common with Paris), and my combination of eccentric clothing from around the globe are different. It's my confidence that has changed.
I have reached the point in the immersion experience where people do not automatically know that I am (North) American after my first few words. I've recently had a waiter think I was from Brazil after I managed to maintain a conversation throughout dinner. I don't always know what others are thinking but after an extended interaction there is a visible undercurrent of confusion/suspicion until eventually I explain that "I'm not from around here". The next statement is always "ooohhhhhhh" and faces change. The interactions turn a little less stilted and the other parties lose their assumption that my IQ hasn't quite made the charts. Frequently I will catch someone surveying my clothing - top to bottom and then bottom to top (and last night, a woman did this cycle twice). While at times it's uncomfortable, it's nonetheless interesting, and at times amusing.
My first trip, I was worried about standing out, but over this stay I've come to realize that I will always do just that. The color of my skin, the lilt in my voice, my body shape, the things I say when I step in dog mierda (BA has this in common with Paris), and my combination of eccentric clothing from around the globe are different. It's my confidence that has changed.
Thursday, January 5, 2017
A "To the End of the World and Back" Read
As is usually the case, another set of flights translated into another title on the Kindle. On New Year's Day I wrapped up my first read of 2017 with When I'm Gone: A Novel by Emily Bleeker.
At the onset, I honestly couldn't remember if this book was something that I'd read before. It seems however that my brain was trying to correlate this novel of the death of a wife with a side of mystery to the other title Gone in my Kindle library (which isn't a fair comparison). [Apologies, Ms. Bleeker.]
Our main character, Luke, the widower, has lost his wife and in an effort to finalize all the things you wish you would have said if there were more time, Natalie has left a series of letters to be delivered to Luke over the course of the first year following her passing. It is never easy to observe someone's grief from the sidelines (even through digital pages), however the friendship he develops with Annie (Natalie's best friend) gives hope for the reader from the first "breakfast for lunch".
The read was quick and I was engaged in both the characters and the storyline. Natalie has a purpose for introducing people into Luke's life and I won't give all that away, though you will love Jessie. My sole complaint was that the ending wrapped itself up a little too quickly. (It seemed like 350 pages to build and 15 pages to end.) It was a little like my 2016 in that way, and maybe this was the reason I was hesitant to reach "Acknowledgements". I liked it and it was over too soon.
Savor those beautiful moments, readers. We just don't know how many we'll get.
At the onset, I honestly couldn't remember if this book was something that I'd read before. It seems however that my brain was trying to correlate this novel of the death of a wife with a side of mystery to the other title Gone in my Kindle library (which isn't a fair comparison). [Apologies, Ms. Bleeker.]
Our main character, Luke, the widower, has lost his wife and in an effort to finalize all the things you wish you would have said if there were more time, Natalie has left a series of letters to be delivered to Luke over the course of the first year following her passing. It is never easy to observe someone's grief from the sidelines (even through digital pages), however the friendship he develops with Annie (Natalie's best friend) gives hope for the reader from the first "breakfast for lunch".
The read was quick and I was engaged in both the characters and the storyline. Natalie has a purpose for introducing people into Luke's life and I won't give all that away, though you will love Jessie. My sole complaint was that the ending wrapped itself up a little too quickly. (It seemed like 350 pages to build and 15 pages to end.) It was a little like my 2016 in that way, and maybe this was the reason I was hesitant to reach "Acknowledgements". I liked it and it was over too soon.
Savor those beautiful moments, readers. We just don't know how many we'll get.
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