My new book “Midlife Solo” is now available.

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over the Atlantic

Listening to James Ehnes play Bach partitas
as we float over the Atlantic. The plane is jammed but much more comfortable than
the flight over. After 25 days away, I’m going home.
What a trip. Not a single mishap. The worst
thing that happened was smashing a glass of red wine at the Haymarket Theatre. Even the weather was a blessing – yes, London
was chilly, but there was no rain. There was no rain anywhere except once in
Paris, just after Lynn and I came inside, and a tiny sprinkling during a walk in
Provence. Extraordinary.
I was almost never alone. Even after
leaving old friends and flying to London, I wasn’t as alone as expected;
there was time with Penny and Harriet and the unexpected friendship at the Penn Club –
Chris, now sitting two seats behind me, with whom I have a lot in common. Except
packing – she has a tiny suitcase for a 3-week trip, half the size of mine for a slightly shorter time away. But then, I care
more about style than Chris. And there was Paris. Still. Reduce, reduce, reduce.
Wish I’d done more work, but that’s okay. I
am especially glad to be returning as the world quivers before the twin psycho
bullies in North Korea and the U.S. And apparently May has just called an
election in England, which does not seem a good idea.
Just watched “Manchester by the Sea,” which
I’d avoided before as I’d heard it was relentlessly depressing. But in fact, though
it’s about unfathomable grief, it’s also about kindness, family, community, decency – much more heartening than I’d thought. And I thought the
British had stiff upper lips! Which apparently they won’t any more after Prince
Harry’s brave confession today.
I watched a French doc last night on the
Vermeer exposition at the Louvre, showing how all those Dutch painters
influenced each other, painting the same subjects in almost exactly the same
ways, but Vermeer’s strength, they showed, was simplicity, taking everything
unnecessary away, the meditative quality of his voyage into the self.
I’d like to say meaningful things here about France and England and travel. But it’s all a blur right now. Listening
to Eric Satie. I will reclaim my piano. I will insert my own key into my own
front door and walk into my own house. Funny how you don’t think about those
things until you’ve been away, using other people’s keys, fitting into other
people’s houses.
Back to reality. Laundry, income taxes,
grocery shopping, the garden, work on the memoir. The conversation group, eating
healthily again, finding a yoga class for my sore back. Getting a haircut and a
pedicure. And mostly, seeing the boys, my kids. BK, this is
your lovely life.

And getting ready for the next trip, next
week. Don’t even want to think about it.

Later. Just watched “The Eagle Huntress” – fabulous. We’re nearly there. 

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About Beth

I began keeping a journal at the age of nine. Nearly fifty years later, I started this online journal, sharing reflections, reviews, updates, and the occasional secret.

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