Photos taken last week during the kid's school break by a dad of their friends at school. He had a camera the size of the car/van/can.
Happy Easter to all. We had hot crossed buns after church today. I was a bit surprised. I haven’t had hot crossed buns on Easter for about 15 years, and then, all the sudden, bam!, hot crossed buns in India. Nobody prepared me. No email. No phone call. Nothing. Did any of you have hot crossed buns today?
On Tuesday morning, it was like Mutual of Ohama’s Wild Kingdom around here. Probably a smaller version than the African Plains. But you know, birds are constantly flying into our house. The fly in, they fly out. Done. But, Tuesday morning, one swooped in and our cat, Snowy, was on the prowl and caught it in mid-air. Ani was home with pink eye and saw it all happen and screamed. Snowy was running around the house with a flapping bird in his mouth. I am so not-brave you guys when it comes to animals. It’s really quite humbling. So, I told Ani to go open the door to the courtyard to shoo out the cat, because I didn’t want Snowy ripping the bird apart under someone’s bed. Gross. So, Snowy ran outside and proceeded to chase the limping/dying bird around the courtyard for about 10 minutes. My dear, animal loving child, Ani, was bawling, telling me to call Ilona, our vet friend. I can only imagine what Ilona thought about the phone call, but I was a bit desperate to console Ani. Ilona said that I needed to end the birds suffering and break its neck. Pardon me? Come again? No, no, no, there was no way in all of the world that I was going to do that. At least, not yet. So, I told Ani, let’s give it just another minute, and (deep breath) whew, the bird did die. But I was already trying to play out the scene in my head of whacking it with my frying pan - and I did not like that scene at all.
My audible pleasures are this currently: fireworks, bus horns, meowing cats and really loud music from the neighboring guesthouse. Let me give you their playlist, it has been played often as of late.
“Every Rose Has Its Thorn” - Guns and Roses
“You’re Beautiful” - James Blunt
A few Hindi tunes
“Country Road” - John Denver
We have some serious “bus action” going on around our house. Being that we live close to the lake, a tourist hot spot, it’s a bit of an obstacle course getting to our house. As we were stuck for 30 minutes in a bus jam yesterday, James said, “Mommy, these roads are not made for these large buses.” Right on James. I grabbed some photos from Google images to at least some sort of visual...
A moment of silence please ------------------------ tomorrow, we are selling the car/van/can. I have made my fair share of jokes about our little vehicle, but it has served us well. We thought selling our car/van/can was going to be quite the task, but it was a hot item around here. The buyer wanted our vehicle so badly, that he was willing to give us his vehicle to use until we go. So long car/van/can...
Well folks, we are leaving India. Wild, crazy, beautiful India. I feel like I haven’t processed much with you all about my transition feelings. In all honesty, I don’t know how I feel. Last night we had an early Easter dinner with the Parks and Ketchums. It occurred to me in the last few days that this will be the last holiday shared with them. For the most part, we have celebrated all the major holidays together. Although we once were used to our mothers, aunts and grandmothers making the pies, stuffing and mashed potatoes...now we are. Although we used to get ready for Thanksgiving at our extended family’s house, now the kids ask, “Are we going to the Parks’ for Thanksgiving?” The Parks are staying in India, the Ketchums are moving to Cambodia and we are going back to the States. (Tears stinging eyes, lump in throat.) We probably won’t be sharing a holiday together in the near future. But in the very same breathe, I am wild to see and live beside our family, friends and church and I am ready to not have my tummy ache 80% of the time. So, it’s all these mixed up emotions. Which is fine. It’s really the nature of transition. Jayson and I have moved six times in the the last nine years (the next one included). (I am not including that fact the first four years of our married life we moved to a tent for a few months each summer.) All moves different. Some enormous, some smaller. I think because my parents have basically been in the same house since I was little, I don’t feel like a “mover”, but as an adult, I think I have been. And I don’t know if the moving season is coming to a close, but for now, it’s moving time.