Foreigner
We moved from Mundelein.
Our reason, to consolidate the family in one area, so that the grand kids, cousins, can play together as they grow up. We adults can compare notes about “life.” Life is nothing but a deck of jokers, as least that is how I’ve felt lately. Your quest: find meaning in a journey that is nothing but endless surprise. The journey involves wins and loses, gain and loss. Sometimes you have to get rid of things that have strong ties of emotion to a version of yourself, a version that has been superseded by the current edition. When you move you must get rid of stuff. Any refugee would understand.
And then there is the case when a feature of your life is forceably removed, a relationship that was connected to everything thing else. I refer to the loss of my sister this past Saturday. She passed away after living her adult life struggling with schizophrenia, diabetes, and a host of other assaults on her mind and body. I know that death granted her more peace than she has had for a long time. And I know that I am grieving for what might have been. “What might have been” is the imaginations effort to suppose that if a certain element had been absent, then everything else would have been different, better. Without a doubt that’s true. But we never get to chose the path which destiny of cause and effect has encoded that the course of a life will take. We do have some leeway of response, and that is the precious modicum of freedom that we sometimes recognize, and hold in the highest regard. My sister did the best that she could, with the circumstances as presented.
So here I am in a strange town. They do speak English well enough, unless by some miracle I am able to understand Batavian. (That is a joke which I keep telling myself for a silent chuckle.) The Barista, a kindly female Randy by name, told me that she grew up here, and loves the town. Hearing that said gives me hope that a day will come when I will feel that I belong here
