What means "normal"?

Journal entry by Eve Ilsen — 22 hours ago

Surely today's trip home from Berkeley was not that.

The morning was fine: I was up and packed early. I was privileged to observe a very skillful physical therapy session. The day was bright and beautiful. My friend made great effort to get me to the airport in plenty of time so I shouldn't worry.

Then the flight was several hours late departing, it was chill and rainy when I arrived, and nothing at the airport was where it had been the last time I looked for the bus to Boulder. Worse, when I got home, my checkbook seems not to be where I assumed it would be: my purse. It is also evidently not in the room where I slept in Berkeley. I hope it is hiding in my suitcase.

On the other hand, my friends who sat the house and were good to the cat while I was gone picked me up at the local bus terminal; the house has been well-cared-for; and Mishka the Cat is happy to see me. (Until a few minutes ago, she was curled up on the desk by my right arm.)

I am very happy to have spent the past days in Berkeley, grateful to have participated in the memorial for the teacher/friend who had been important in my life, glad to have spent the time with my friend and hostess, glad to have seen members of the community whom I had not seen in years, delighted to have walked the splendid dog park with Fleagle the dog and her human and canine companions.

And now I am ready to go upstairs and rediscover my own bed.What means "normal"?

Journal entry by Eve Ilsen — 22 hours ago

Surely today's trip home from Berkeley was not that.

The morning was fine: I was up and packed early. I was privileged to observe a very skillful physical therapy session. The day was bright and beautiful. My friend made great effort to get me to the airport in plenty of time so I shouldn't worry.

Then the flight was several hours late departing, it was chill and rainy when I arrived, and nothing at the airport was where it had been the last time I looked for the bus to Boulder. Worse, when I got home, my checkbook seems not to be where I assumed it would be: my purse. It is also evidently not in the room where I slept in Berkeley. I hope it is hiding in my suitcase.

On the other hand, my friends who sat the house and were good to the cat while I was gone picked me up at the local bus terminal; the house has been well-cared-for; and Mishka the Cat is happy to see me. (Until a few minutes ago, she was curled up on the desk by my right arm.)

I am very happy to have spent the past days in Berkeley, grateful to have participated in the memorial for the teacher/friend who had been important in my life, glad to have spent the time with my friend and hostess, glad to have seen members of the community whom I had not seen in years, delighted to have walked the splendid dog park with Fleagle the dog and her human and canine companions.

And now I am ready to go upstairs and rediscover my own bed.