I lost the month of August in between the cushions of the couch. It nestled in among the lost hair ties and cracker crumbs. It took refuge in what-ifs and maybes and some-days. September is threatening to do the same.
It's been over a month since we were first supposed to leave. Our original flight was scheduled back in July. The suitcases were packed and the apartment cleaned. Of course, over the course of August, things have gradually found a way out from behind the zippers and emerged into our daily life again. The clean apartment has reverted to it's lived in, cluttered appearance.
I keep remembering these articles about how and why time distorts when we are not making active new memories. Life in lockdown looks pretty much the same every day. I have been starting to get the sense that other people are having a lot more liveliness than we are, but after closer conversations I learn it is mostly not true. And after closer reflection, I remember all the events we have experienced, albeit through our computer screen. (Graduation in the palm of a hand, phd residency #4, Mexico through my daughter's eyes...)
The anticipation of finally reaching our destination is tempered a bit by the realization that upon arrival we will be isolated again. No community welcome. No exploring the grounds or checking out the classroom. Just more staying home. It's not terrible most of the time. My studies keep me too busy to focus on much else anyway. But it's become downright awkward to still be on the campus of a school I no longer work at.
We're still here. Still waiting. Trying to manage the complex unification of airline schedules, covid testing turn around time and figuring out how to pay for it all in a country that eschews cash.
In the meantime, the girl has lost her first tooth. After reading Throw Your Tooth on the Roof: Tooth Traditions from Around the World, she has decided to go for the wish. We wanted to throw the tooth on a roof, but all the roofs are too high. I suggested we throw it off the 7th floor balcony, which has been the site of many long afternoons building, creating and storytelling. She vetoed that idea.
In the end, we decided to bury the tooth by a coconut palm near the swings. What place could be more magical than the swings?
