As I get ready to head back to the states in the next couple of days, there's always a flood of feelings. Before we were living here full-time and I was here alone, the week before it was time to return I found myself beginning a kind of "re-entry" process. I'd start cleaning and straightening some, while thinking about seeing Dal and Sam, my friends in New Orleans, Columbus Street and getting back to work. I was always taking the bus into Cahors to catch the train to Paris and then on to the states. That last day was heart-wrenching. I'd walk around the Chatette and the garden, go down into the tunnel and wander around, turn off the water and the electric, cover the furniture, unplug everything in the house, and close the shutters. I'd leave by the front door because the terrace door is shuttered when I'm not here. I'd begin walking toward the bus stop, and began the tradition of touching and kissing one of the outcropping corner stones of the Chatette and saying-"Be safe. I'll miss you. I'll be back as soon as I can." I'd then walk toward the bus stop and stop to look at the Chatette at the turn in the bend just before it disappears from sight. These days, there isn't quite so much to do. I know I'm coming back, but now I'm leaving Dal, Sam and the Winkelmann. I miss them desperately when I'm in the states. I also miss my friends, my bike rides, the river, the causse, my garden, the silence, the bells, my morning bird symphonies...just this simple life. When I'm in the states there are fewer walks, I drink soft-drinks, I eat hamburgers and pizza, I watch television, I don't sit at a computer, and I drive. There seems to be so much noise, so many people, so much manic movement, and moments in the madness of wondering how and when I became such a solitary person. I have always recognized the extremes, but it wasn't until I was standing in a bar on Bourbon Street with Christiane, Josie and Patrick that it smacked me in the face. They asked: "Laury, why do you live in Cadrieu. You have such a great life here?" It was hard to explain. I tried. The bottom line is I love this sweet, simple, uncomplicated life here in our place in France. In many ways, the storm gave us this gift! I tease all the time, but it's true: My life is a movie and I live in a painting!
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