It is eleven oh one p.m. I am composing this in my head and cannot sleep. Beside me, Wendy is blissfully oblivious, sleeping deeply as is her gift. The new lights above my head are dimmed to almost nothingness. It is wonderful. Serene. Wendy thinks of all the right details.
It is nine a.m. the previous morning. Wendy is reading on her iPhone next to me and I know I should get up. I have a lot to do in the next few hours. I slumber as long as my body lets me then take a cold shower and start work. Seven hours from now I will be asleep on a plane in a haze and Wendy will be softly crying in the seat next to me. I will be unaware of this fact until she tells me four hours later.
It is eleven oh seven Middlebury time. I have been awake for twenty-two hours. I get up and can’t find my glasses but must compose this note. Wait. I have a spare pair in my computer bag.
It is ten-thirty a.m. I have put away the dishes, closed and shuttered all the windows, taken the trash downstairs, weighed the bags twice, taken down another duffle and filled it with extra things. I carry the two fifty pound bags downstairs, sweating like a fat man in August. I sit on the stairs to rest and forget to check the mail for my driver’s license and credit card that were shipped to me weeks ago from Vermont. I am angry, and have been for days, for reasons I cannot fathom.
It is eight-thirty. Doug greets us as at the door and insists on helping me with the luggage. The new porch is stunning. The skylights are awe-inspiring. The new bedrooms are too large to be believed. They are like a cathedral. The dogs don’t recognize me. Morganna looks like she has mange. Merlin looks like he is going to explode in a massive ball of fur. Nikki looks like she always looks – terrified.
It is ten-thirty. After an amazing talk with my parents, I am home. Wendy and Doug are asleep. The house is mine. Look… a picture of Lorelei and Dharmesh at my desk. A badge showing my name and nationality for the pro tour. The amazing, stunning, wonderful piece of art that Wendy made out of my column, the card and the original artwork for “Timbermare.” Superman memorabilia. Ashes of my former dogs, waiting to be scattered with mine when I finally give in to that dark night. Pictures of fat Jamie with Marilyn. A movie ticket from Wendy’s and my first date. My favorite picture of Wendy. A suit of armor that stands two feet high.
I love this house.
It is twelve-thirty in the afternoon and they have finally turned on the video system on the airplane. Who watches the Watchmen? I do. For the second time. The first time, not so much. The second time, I am pretty sure it is a thing of beauty. I love it. It speaks to me in a way few movies ever have.
It is 5:47 a.m Madrid time. I am going to sleep.