This weekend got off to a good start with a delicious dinner of potatoes, pumpkin soup and apple-raspberry crumble followed by a night of dancing to a mediocre Reggae band, made better with the simplicity of the lyrics.
Saturday morning, my alarm sang shrilly just before 6 am and I rushed into my morning routine, packing my bag, inhaling breakfast, making a lunch for later and wrapping up the bouquet of butter-colored flowers I bought for Isabelle the way that Mom used to when I would take flowers to school for my teachers, dampening a paper towel and then wrapping it around the bottoms of the stems, placing them into a plastic bag and wrapping a rubber band carefully around it all. In a cinematic manner, I arrived at the train station JUST before it chugged away, leaping on with only seconds to spare. Then I settled in for a 6.5 hour journey, my backpack and the springtime bundle balanced on the seat across from me, back to le magnifique Puy-en-Velay.
By the time I arrived, I was sneezing approximately once every 10 minutes and my contacts were screaming to be removed -- I had forgotten the incident of the bridal bouquets in the car in the summer time, and the fact that my body considers flora the enemy.
But despite it, I got off the train, and felt a sense of familiar relief fill me up. I looked for a familiar face, a swarm of winter coats and breath clouds and baggage fluttering around me.
And then I saw them -- E's red glasses and brilliant gold hair, Tt's toothy grin and muted gray jacket, and The Host Dad's kind eyes that towered above them both, all in an instant of recognition.
The 30 minute car ride to their new house passed quickly in a flutter of questions and answers, a few photographs and a snowy road. When we got there, T was still sleeping, so I got the grand tour as The Host Mom artfully arranged the tired-looking flowers into a chic vase on the new kitchen table.
Saturday passed in a whirlwind of activity and information -- Tt's new social life, and his aptitude for dancing like Michael Jackson, E's recent access to MSN and skill of making boondoggles, and T's ever-constant love of attention, food and hugs.
We went to the cinema to see "Océan," a documentary about -- you guessed it -- the sea. When we came out of the theatre, we walked into a perfect snowfall, the thick flakes glistening beneath the faded gold of the street lights. A raclette dinner warmed us up, complete with vanilla yogurt for dessert, something that has become a bit of a French comfort food for me since last year.
After getting into pajamas, E started reading "Le Petit Prince" out loud as the boys played NBA 2009, REFUSING to be the Detroit Pistons in lieu of the Chicago Bulls despite my insistent pleas.
Sunday morning passed quickly, filled with board games and more of the story, a bit of hide & go seek, and breakfast together while The Host Mom slept -- everything so fantastically familiar.
We all played "Unanime," a game involving one card with a word and corresponding picture on it that everyone responds to by writing 8 words that are inspired by the picture. For example, "Pig" could inspire "three, little, pink, farm, cow, bacon, ham and pork." You earn points for words that other people also had, with a linear relationship existing between the number of people who had the word and the number of points awarded. This was ultimately fun and delightful, except for E's petite crise and obsession with winning (perhaps you remember that I vowed to never play Monopoly again with her because of her ridiculous and conspicuous cheating).
The Host Dad took me to the train station, and as we pulled out of the driveway, a sea of small hands painted invisible rainbows in the doorway, a few minutes of hugs and "à bientôt!"s behind me and a few hour's travel ahead.
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