Ann called to ask if we had a weekend free. Her daughter Eden is visiting Sarajevo for the summer, and they wanted to come to Germany for a few days. I immediately started calling around to find a hotel, and she booked her flight. The night before they flew she contacted us again and remarked that she had always wished that I were a real sister. My immediate response was, “But you are!”
Ann and I have some remarkable similarities. We were both born in Florida to a black father and a white mother. We have extensive West Indian roots. We were English majors together in college, and we both married our college sweethearts. Both of us are still married to men who are very different from anyone our friends and families (and selves, to be honest) ever saw us even willing to date. We have children who we adore, but who are not always the center of our lives. And both of us have found that living in Europe suits us.
So Ann and Eden arrived in Munich on Thursday and we headed for the Alps. August in Germany is a bit strange. Anyone who can goes on vacation, so every hotel is booked. At the same time, many small shops and restaurants are closed as the families that own them head off as well. We went to Garmisch-Partenkirchen partly because it is a lovely town filled with things to do and partly because it was where I was able to book space for five people.
We had a very nice, if slightly strange time. Ann was introduced to travel the QW2 way, where nothing goes exactly the way you want it to, but you have fun anyway, and you probably eat well. I should trademark that phrase and give Rick Steves a run for his money. We did make it to Italy (through Austria), but discovered that the area of Italy we were in was very similar to the area of Germany we had just left. So we went back to Germany.
Mostly what we did for the few days we were together was talk. Wendall and Eden hit it off immediately, so they played in the other room or in the pool while we pretended to be grown ups. (Eden has a brother just a year older than Wendall, so she was on familiar ground. Wendall has always loved older women, so an eight year old was just about perfect.) The three of us, friends for 14 years, had a precious few days to discuss life with people who might possibly be able to help put it into perspective. It was wonderful.
Four thousand miles away, my parents were having a similar weekend. They were on their annual trip to the Midwest, catching up with the lives of friends who have been in our lives for the past thirty to forty years. I asked my mother what the best part of trip had been (they are still traveling) and she replied, “Sitting on the porch.” For people who have long-term long distance friendships there is magic in being able to hold a friend’s hand while you talk.
My mother also informed me that on the way home they would make a short stop in Ohio to see another family friend. This is a woman who is a part of our family mythology. I have not seen her since 1980, but her influence on my life is never ending. I have been lucky enough to have two Fairy Godmothers in my life, and she is one of the two.
For the past two years my parents have tried to see her during this trip, but have failed. This year they made this visit a focal point and called to let her know that they were on the way. She informed them that she is dying, and would be so happy to get the chance to sit with them before her journey. I cried when my mother told me this, and I am crying as I write this now. She will live within my childhood memories for as long as I have them. I am so glad that my parents have the chance to say goodbye.
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