on stranger shores

I am writing this to you from the shores of America.

It is a fact that I still find hard to believe.

The jet lag was horrible; I don’t recommend traveling across time zones with babies to anyone, ever, period, exclamation point, exclamation point, exclamation point.

I spent 23 years of my life in America, and now it strikes me as a country of people running in circles, frantically waving their hands above their heads.

Not everybody, not individuals, and probably not you: It is a feeling, an image that comes to mind when people start telling me stories about the health care system and gun violence and the economy and abandoned houses and minimum wage and the way people drive.  America doesn’t make any sense to me, and I’m not sure that it has anything to do with the fact that I have lived elsewhere for the past eight years.

But we are having a lovely time, eating decadently and enjoying watching Pickles get to know a new set of grandparents.  We’ve been to the beach (it was foggy; we built castles) and a thrift store (I miss the warehouse-sized American thrift stores, though it turns out I can get much better deals at the flea markets in Germany) and on walks beneath the brightly colored stragglers still hanging onto their trees.

One Comment on “on stranger shores

  1. Your story:: Way cool. Actually built a a tiny house in Canada, decades ago on lots of land and summer mosquitos. Built up – to attic sleep. Cozy, a wall of books, ice block fridge – old timey. Beach, yup! :: a long walk over packed gravel.

    Stars in summer, a beautiful sky; winter crisp and crunchy spectacular sparkling stars in really cold but you don’t notice bundled up. So some friends brought up some large telescopes from the states to view deeper and further. Now there are robot telescopes across the planet from whereever you are. I rarely use them.

    You have an interesting site.

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