Day 527

I am back in Mattituck. I came out yesterday to spend time with Mom and to help with the house. She was lonely being here alone. Since she doesn’t drive, she was trapped in the house and couldn’t go anywhere. It rained all day when I arrived, so we played dominos. Mom was happy to have company, someone to play games with. Long Island doesn’t usually get hit by hurricanes or tropical storms. That fact that one struck over the weekend has convinced me that Dad is somewhere crying hysterically. If he weren’t already dead, the selling of the house would kill him. Luckily, the storm wasn’t as bad as they predicted on the news. The rain fell heavily at times, but Mom said the wind never really kicked up. She had been worried that a tree would fall or that other damage would occur, but it didn’t. 

Today, we packed up my car with things we will no longer need and took them to the dump. Many of the things were still in good condition but didn’t sell at mom’s estate sale. Getting rid of them was depressing. I cried when I put the rakes into the car remembering all the November days I came out here to rake leaves with Dad. It had become a tradition. Every year during teacher convention, when my son had a four day weekend, we came out here to tend to the yard. I’m really going to miss doing that. Dad always thought I was crazy because I actually enjoy raking. There is something soothing and meditative about it. Yeah, I can rake leaves at home now, but it won’t be the same. Dad won’t be there. And it won’t be here, at this house.

Mom wanted to go to the beach. It’s been hot and since she doesn’t drive she wasn’t able to go swimming without me. But alas, the gods were cruel. The beach was closed. Actually, we could sit on the sand if we wanted, but we couldn’t go in the water. There was too much bacteria due to the storm. I asked mom if she wanted to stay, but the thought of sitting out on a hot day without being able to get wet didn’t appeal to her. So we turned around and went home. (You know, when towns close beaches due to bacteria, you never hear people screaming about government overreach. You never see people jumping into the water shouting, “It’s my right to swim in bacteria infected water. Don’t you dare tell me what I can and cannot do.” Or, “In America I’m free to do whatever I want, so don’t try to stop me from swimming.” Seriously, when people are told they can’t swim because the water isn’t safe, people trust the town. They trust the government. If they trust the authorities when it comes to bacteria, why not trust them when it comes to a virus?)

At home, we packed. I have to go back to New Jersey tomorrow. Kati has a car appointment and needs me to pick her up at the mechanic so she doesn’t have to sit around and wait. Mom decided that she’s going to stay out here again by herself. I tried to talk her out of it, but she still needs to find someone to take the furniture. Plus, if she doesn’t come back with me, I can fit more stuff in the car to drop off in Glendale. And Mom doesn’t want to hire movers, so the extra space means an extra bin of memories I can transport.

After we packed, I started reading the Alchemist by Pablo Coelho. The school year starts in two weeks which means I need to start planning my lessons. It’s always hard to transition back into teaching but at least I don’t have to deal with administrative BS. I can simply dive into material that interests me and my one one pupil. He gave me a list of the books he wants to read. Some are too long to squeeze into one semester. Others I think would bore him, or they bored me the first time I read them. And almost every author on his list is a dead European or North American white man. (And I can’t just teach the classic European white guys since diversity is a cornerstone in my curriculum.) Since Pablo Coelho is Brazilian and the Alchemist is a brilliant novel I figured we’d start the year with it. After our long road trip this summer, I think it will be the perfect book for him to get back into the mindset of school.