my dad

Happy Father's Day, Dad!

It's also your birthday, which is kind of unfortunate. It'd be like having your birthday be the day after Christmas all the time. Oh, wait...

I finally did it. I've been resisting the countdown for, well, a year, but when Joe's mom put up how many days it would be until we arrived in Evansville (23 as of today), I had to know when I would finally see my family & hometown.

Drumroll...

39

We went out to a light show last night–the town's history projected onto the facades of the buildings on Place Stanislas. (Pictures here!) Something about the stormy weather (that never–wait for it–precipitated), the lights, the beer reminded me of home–of fourth of July festivals & backyard dinners. The classical music made the nostalgia even more melancholy, & I found myself eager for our return to the States in a way I hadn't been before.

While I'll miss this country & the ideological at-homeness that I feel here, it will be amazing to be home, sharing birthdays & holidays with my family instead of sending gifts & greetings across the ocean.

We're off to the market this morning, soaking in the last few weekends & fresh produce bargains. Hopefully the sun holds out for us. (Like it matters. I have a date for an Old Lady Afternoon with Lauren–tea, possibly gin & tonics, lots of Middlemarch.)

I'll be seeing you soon, family. You've changed a lot from what I hear, & I guess so have I. We'll have a lot to talk about.

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