Transition day again. We have a picnic breakfast in a local park to say our good-byes. So many nice folks known better now for being thrown together for a couple of days far from home. Pictured is our youngest who has already tired of the reunion. I drive back to SF, dump the rental car and head to the airport for the flight to MN. Departure delayed, but arrival magically is nearly on time. My daughter picks me up and as it’s quite late we drive back to a house already asleep. And so I have made it safely to the next destination of my journey. And spring has officially turned to summer.
My friend B. says Muir Woods is her church, and so it seems to me today. Due largely to east-coast mental clock on west-coast time, I am up early and out for a hike in this beautiful cathedral of redwoods well before the crowds, and have whole stretches of the trail to myself. I serendipitously run into my brother, his wife and friends back down the mountain in Sausalito and we have a cheerful relaxed lunch. In the evening we all head into San Francisco for a mehndi party to meet the bride’s family and have a token bit of the amazing henna tattoo applied for ourselves. I choose an anklet that turns out delightfully. A truly lovely day.
Transition, I’m not so good at it. My fear of flying kicks in, not wanting to leave my life here and plunge into the unknown, sure I will forget something important, or that some one thing of all the moving parts that need to connect will come unstuck. But luck is with me today– my flights leave and arrive on time, and despite minor hiccups in details I arrive at my destination intact. I’m in northern CA for a nephew’s wedding, with a stop in MN on my way back to good old New England. A week away, family to see, passages to celebrate, and so I venture out of the safety of my nest, trusting in fate to get me through and safely back home again.
P’s son graduates from high school today. The pageantry is older than any of us and ties us all up in a chain of those who have been through this formal acceptance of accomplishment. Of course it predicts nothing, promises nothing, and though it brings a sigh of if-only to those who have opted out of the usual, grants nothing. At dinner we laugh, salute the future, and mark the passing of this era. Adulthood looms.