No doubt you wonder where we are. Not Hayden or
No sooner had we landed in Copenhagen and crossed the big bridge, than we played house and worked and missed home, just a smidge, (believe that, and I’ll sell you a fine flying ‘fridge), than we were whisked over Germany, Austria and the heart of the world (or maybe the edge?) to Israel where tropics and sunshine, conflict and Biblical history converge. (Phil worked long days with a company called Crow, while Hunter and I played in sand as white as your snow.)
The first day in
Hunter was three when we took flight, but turned four in
It was there, in
From there we said good-bye, hejdåg, see you soon, and spent a cold, rainy day in the beautiful city of Stockholm ‘til noon, when it was time to take subways, busses and planes back to Copenhagen and the train back to Malmö again. A bus took us back home where Juliene felt fever pain. It was then Juliene realized she was sicker than sick with a flu of a kind that happened to stick and Phil lamented bringing his wife and son (also grown sick) to a place where he wanted to work and have fun.
Two weeks Phil worked, coming home every night to his family, who coughed non-stop from dawn through the night, and each day grew darker, only a few hours of light, until the shortest day when he packed the family up to drive north to Stockholm, again, and to the ferry that would carry us seven to seven, from Sweden to Finland. Hunter enjoyed the children’s play floor, while his parents were wowed by the Swedish archipelago, thousands of small islands with lit up homes, only one or more. Just how did those residents go to the store?
Christmas was grand because we had friends who warmed our hearts with new traditions and generous love, with an artsy apartment, food in the fridge, presents under the tree and chocolate galore, the chance to cut a tree at their cottage and so much more.
Things have been much better, as you can see from my blog (www.bewondered.blogspot.com), since we have met more friends and neighbors, walked the beaches and traveled a lot. What do we do with the money Phil earns? We scrimp and we save, eat the food and fill the car (where the money quickly burns), so we can take off on Fridays, after Phil is off work, and see something more of places where windmills and wind turbines turn.
Because of all this, travel and illness, I write this letter not at Christmas but today, on leap day, in two thousand and eight, in anticipation of the earliest Easter to appear on this date before two thousand, two hundred twenty eight, when at last it will happen again, fifty-five leap years from now; what a wait! In
I’m off to get Hunter from preschool and Phil from his work, so we can rush off to old places where secrets lurk and clerks are open to tell us each quirk.
Happy Leap Year, Easter and more years to come, from our home to your home, may we see each other soon!
Phil the Humble Genius, Juliene the Adventurous and Hunter the Humorous