In Boulder

We made it to Boulder and my heart is breaking. It was an awful trip, 2 hours down Highway 395, which is not a fun highway, then I-15, I-10, the airport, got lost, got un-lost, checked in at the curb, dragged babies, stroller, heavy carseats, all our stuff to the plane, 2 hours in the air (Baby B awake the whole time), dragged all our stuff to the rental car place, took the long way home because it was rush hour... and then, as we came to that part of Highway 36 where you can see all of Boulder laid out before you... I thought I was dreaming. It was Brigadoon. It was Fairyland. Fortunately I wasn't driving, because I was swooning. That feeling of being in a dream continued as we drove through town. We were listening to KBCO on the radio and they were playing various classic rock/pop/whatever songs, and every song seemed full of significance and melancholy. Finally we drove up to our house -- our house! The most beautiful house in the world! It has been a very cool wet summer in Colorado, and Boulder is much greener than it would normally be in September. Lush, really. It looked more like Michigan than Colorado. All our trees and bushes are overgrown.

We went inside. The house is so lovely! The people who have been staying there this summer had left some furniture, and some bits and pieces of ours are still there, including the upright piano. It didn't seem empty. White walls, hardwood floors. The house was singing to us: welcome back, thank you for coming. The babies ran excitedly from room to room. I'm not sure they remembered it, but I'm not sure they didn't.

We went next door. Clifford is dying, I knew that. But I was not prepared for how he would look. He's lost all his hair, from the radiation or chemo or whatever. Otherwise he's not too much changed physically, but his face shows so much pain. So different from the old friend we left behind 7 months ago. I wanted to throw my arms around him, but that isn't our relationship and anyway I had to look after the babies, who ran madly from breakable thing to breakable thing.

Finally we took them outside. Clifford has a lot of rocks in his yard and the babies like rocks. They happily picked up rock after rock and threw them around. I wandered over to the low fence that divides his yard from ours. I looked into our yard. It is so green, so overgrown. Our elm tree, our oak tree, our maple tree. The times I would go into the yard and look over and see him in his yard. The times he would go into his yard and look over and see us. He and Rocket Boy have looked back and forth across that low fence for more than 50 years, starting when RB was younger than our babies.

This is the pain I didn't feel when we left, because I was too overwhelmed and too depressed. I hope it will stop soon.

It is like a dream. It is like when you dream about a person who's died, but there in the dream they are alive and well and you're so happy to see them again. I thought I'd lost my home but here is my home, waiting for me. At the same time, Clifford is dying, and he was a big part of "home." So home is really about to be lost. I get one more taste of it and then it will be gone. The next time I come here it will be all different.

This is where we used to live.