Another last day. So many last days in one’s life, but then so many exciting next days, next adventures. I’ve been lucky to have had so many of those, so lucky with my companions.
Bondi and I spent 30 months travelling around Europe. Surely an adventure of a lifetime. Who would have imagined that I’d repeat that with Munson in another 30 months of this idyll on a French farm? I certainly haven’t planned such time-frames on these excursions; the compass points itself hither and then one day, there’s a change of direction. Fortune has its own compass.
Back in the moment: tears, hugs, last acknowledgments of furry friends, last nose rubs between furry friends.
The car had spent the night in the barn so it wouldn’t be frozen to immobility. Just after 9am we move so slowly down the white driveway, through white fog. It’s like some shroud of time opening for us to move away from our time-locked island.
Indulge me for these frames from the wheel as we approach the main road.
Bookending Gustav’s stay in France, is a night in Saint-Aignan with Walt and Ken, where exactly eighteen months ago we’d camped in their back yard as I brought Gustav to live with me. This time we had a more cosy night indoors.