Now, in the photograph above, we have 3 of the 4 "Sistahs," Suzy, Katy, and Makendra. In the place of Sara Anne, the fourth of this exercise-bound reading group, Makendra brought her husband Chad, and they were the last of our guests before Grandma arrived in June. Makendra and Chad crushed jet lag with us, before checking out the scene in Amsterdam. Unfortunately, my solo trip to Paris was at the same time, so I only got a glimpse of our friends while they were here. But Suzy and Katy took in the world with them, and had a blast, a great big breath of fresh air.
Again, "Goodbye" felt like "See ya tomorrow," which is a good thing, because Suzy and Mak just seem to fill each other up.
...No, I wasn't there for much of this one, and I wasn't waiting for them in Amsterdam, but I was hanging out in Van Gogh's room in Paris.
My only objective in Paris, actually, was Musee D'Orsay: just one delightful day dedicated to that museum.
I had missed it when we first visited, and for months I felt like I was really going to regret not getting there. And, for once, I was right: to have missed Orsay would have been to miss something, indeed. In fact, I now feel that though one day is not even close to enough time there, my real joy is in having had a whole day to fill my little cup with timelessness.
(I know what you're thinking about that middle picture, but don't say it--a lot of you don't even know Andy Hieb.) I ate maybe the best pizza I have ever had, and ventured down to a bookstore, and took a picture of this,
but that just served to remind me of these and the like.
Yes, I'd drop everything right now and go back to that same museum to pick up where I left off with each painting and sculpture. I loved it, and I will be grateful to my whole family for encouraging me to go and take in as much as I could.
But enough of that kind of thing. Let's get back to work here. So Katy and Suzy had planned for a last four-day weekend in spring to do a bike trip up at Rugen Island in the Baltic Sea.
Beautiful this time of year, no question.
Aren't those magnificent pictures? And apparently, Rugen even boasts of some picturesque cliffs.
Not bad. But they're not the "Cliffs of Insanity."
That's where I took the three meanwhile, to Galway in Ireland, and to the Cliffs of Moher (which were actually the cliffs depicted in The Princess Bride).
See, there's Vizzini and Fezzik. And look at the day we had to see it. We're talking sunscreen people. Oh, and here's a picture of Buttercup.
The one on the right. Scout is the hard-hearted beast on the left, who would chew up Westley, the Prince, and the Fireswamp in a single day and spit them out like bad-textured vegetables. (In case you're wondering, by the way, Suzy consistently reminds me that I look like the six-fingered man.) Anyway, Ireland was great.
The people, in particular, were the best, as hospitable as can be, though also sarcastic and always tilting toward some punchline, it seemed. But we loved them. Reminded me of my mother, to tell you the truth. Granny is only a 4th Irish, I think, but I'm pretty sure that that 4th resisted being taken over and now rules her demeanor and that of all her many siblings completely, my aunts and uncles, and cousins--each one a riot in his or her own way, Sweeneys, indeed. We ate well, and watched Mad Max Fury Road, and had another fairy-tale like moment to cherish with each other.
I'm not sure how Irish our demeanor is, but the three are the best people in the world to travel with, no question.
Well, the next weekend swept me and Suzy off to Copenhagen.
I ran a race, and Suzy--she sustained the worst injury of the day--clapping for all the runners as she biked to different spots and waited for me to pass. She really screwed up her wrist. I came in about 1,365th place for the-50-and-older running group.
But Suzy came in 1st out of the fans.
That's why when Mother's Day came round, I convinced Suzy to let us send her on her own to any destination she wanted. She chose Stockholm. She went, taking mine and Kiefer's advice on the VASA museum. But then she one-upped us, trading out the Nobel Prize Museum for something of true international value...yep, that's right, the ABBA Museum.
She missed us a lot, but made a time of it, she said.
Then she jumped on a kayak, and took in Stockholm from one of its many water-ways. Like my Paris trip, much of the value of her solo trip was in successfully making the adjustment back into taking on the world alone again.
And that's the last we have seen of Suzy since mid-May. Heard she's striving to win Eurovision next year. Takes dedication, no doubt...
Actually, she came back, and ran the Potsdam 10K with us.
And then, finally, we received Grandma. She got squared away with her jet lag and then took us and the Williams to Krakau, Poland.
We rented a nine-person van, and drove there and back in a weekend.
Grandma's with us still (--just retruned from another quick trip with Katy and Suzy to Quedlinburg, in fact),
and she will see both both her girls and us through our next transitions. But this is where I'll stop this blog. With this post, I'm going to start packing up and preparing for Heritage High School again. I'm looking forward to being back home--back with a better chance to see and be with all of you--you, who, every time I post anything here, remind me how lucky I am to be so companioned--you, who constitute home--the heart's own place to which we have always been returning. I will give it some time, and reflect, as I said, and hope life affords me a chance to try to fit this great adventure of ours into some kind of frame; but, for now, may this suffice: We went abroad and saw so much, and learned, and grew, and loved--loved each other and all people--loved life, itself; but all of it, I always realize, only further builds my excitement in bringing back and sharing with you and with the rest of the world--with all eternity the very transport of my soul--the everything each of these three represent and unfold with their every breath.
See ya soon, The DeStefanos...and Larry.
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