Contentment...

 Sunburnt, tired, and grateful, we flew in last night.

(Tower of London - May 21, 2012)

 England was beautiful... and full of people, and places...

(Westminster Abbey - May 22, 2012)

 ...from childhood stories...

(Kensington Gardens - May 23, 2012)

  ...and childhood dreams.

(C. S. Lewis Nature Reserve in Oxford - May  19, 2012)

On the final leg of our journey, a fellow traveler asked if I was headed to Kansas City for work or tourism, or if it was my final destination. 

I simply answered,  "I am going home." 

And was happy as a duck in water...

(Blenheim Palace in Woodstock - May 20, 2012)

 But I still miss England...

London, Here We Come!

F.C. and I will be in the air tomorrow (and over the moon) for almost two glorious weeks in London, England. For my peace of mind, the cell phones, facebooks, and blogs will be off-line as we traipse "across the pond". Oddly enough, text messaging is free. So, if you need me to reach me - text away. I will be happily fulfilling my childhood dream of seeing England for myself.

Literature and Seven Days...

I gave up Pinterest last night. If I still miss it this winter, I will sign up again on my birthday.

I have been struck this week about how much of my life is spent trapped in the past, or star-gazing into the future. And in this moment, I want to be here... in the present. I had lofty dreams of what this age would bring, and I still find myself falling short of my dreams. (Nothing like getting acne in your late twenties to make you feel as though you may never grown up!)

So, what does living in the present look like? Well, today, it involved a delightful literature discussion at work. I have at last come to terms with my disgust of Mr. Rochester. Even a cad is entitled to a dream of happiness and true love... I suppose. 

Living in the present is also living in my current state of absolute "bird-brain". If the planning and reading of last few weeks have been preparing my mind and heart for my journey, they have been a smashing success. My mind is gone. 

It is in England.

Seven days from today, my body will catch up to it.

 So, Heathrow, get ready! I will see you in a week!

Yesterday, I fell off a stool...

... and ended up with a set of bruises that resembled Tennessee at first, then the island nations of Corsica and Sardinia, and now Corsica and Sardinia, with the newly sprouted addition of the island of Crete down here on my foot. 

Yes, my head is in the clouds. Or, more accurately, across the ocean. I have been changing my screen saver weekly to prepare my mind and my heart for the fact that I am actually leaving. 

Victoria Station

For the past month I have had a dreadful thought that I will wake up one morning and be told, 

"Ha!Ha! You aren't really going!"

Blenheim Palace, Woodstock

  But as the clock runs down - to two weeks, as a matter of fact, - reality is sinking in.

Frogmore

 And reality is wonderful... as long as I stay off of stools.

The Key

S. blew in, still jet-lagged from her flight. She had arranged everything. I was handed this key with three pages of handwritten notes and a postcard - so I could see where I was going.

"...go left out of our house to Blenheim 

entrance (100 yards)..."

'"..when leaving, remember to turn off hot water..."

"...caution: garden table is rickety..."

This will be one magical summer...

Forty-eight hours...

He was graduating in the top 10% of his class - an honor graduate once again. After 10 weeks of learning big and important things, he was being sent to Texas to spend the summer learning more important things.

We had 48 hours and lots of coffee.

He looked different... taller, perhaps. He said it was the heel on his dress shoes, but I think his posture had improved. He was happy, living a dream he had had since he was a small boy. He wanted to pray before we left him. We stood in a circle and I was struck with how much he had grown in spirit and how much life was going to change again. I could feel the tears coming, fuzzy on the edges of my eyes. He warned me not to start, because then he would lose it. Just when I decided I couldn't hold back any longer, he poked me, hard, in the ribs with a long finger. I was laughing, still almost crying, and I smacked him right on his shiny, brass buttons. Yeah... that's my little brother. And I knew everything was going to be okay.

Oh, look -

- it's Tuesday.

Herry Monster appears courtesy of Sesame Street.