Reports from the road and the homefront

Tom just called, and early reports are that Edith loves Ithaca. She had her feet in Lake Cayuga as we spoke. Yesterday they arrived on campus to check in and discovered that the tenth reunion class was going to be put up in a castle! Since art and architecture students call that particular "castle" home during the schoolyear, the walls inside were decorated with all sorts of drawings, including images of some of Edith's best friends: Max and the Wild Things, the Grinch, etc. She was thrilled.

Later in the afternoon she got to go with Daddy and his friend Jason down into one of the gorges, where they clambered over the rocks and splashed around in the pools. At Daddy's fraternity house, where they met up with more old friends for dinner, Edith was excited to go out back through the woods and down into the gazebo that sits right on the edge of a gorge, with a stunning view of the next waterfall upstream. Tom reported that it was the first time in his life that the gazebo ever made him nervous.

Today they are planning to canoe and swim and go to a big arboretum. All in all, Edith seems pretty sure she's living the life of a princess.

Meanwhile, while I wouldn't confuse it with the life of royalty, I am amazed at the quieter joys of being home in my own house alone overnight, the first time that has happened since well before Edith was born. Instead of starting my toughest job at 5pm, I found that coming home from an intense day of writing really did feel like rest. I could take Bismarck out for a leisurely walk that met his full need for exercise and mine for mental spacing out, rather than cheerleading a reluctant party around the short block in an unpleasant, drag-out chore that no one enjoyed. I could make a dinner I felt like eating and not worry about anyone turning up her nose and needing to be coaxed to have a few bites. I could clean up and not turn around to discover new messes outpacing me. I didn't have to talk anyone out of starting a fingerpainting project at 9pm. I didn't have to stage an elaborate bedtime routine, a full hour after I wanted to be in bed myself. I didn't have to urge anyone to clean up, brush, change, pee, wipe, wash hands, close the fridge, stay in bed, or anything else. I could lie on the couch, watch a movie, and find that I wasn't tensed waiting for the next wail of protest from the bedroom. In short, I almost felt like an autonomous adult again. Good stuff.