July 1, 2012: Leaving (on a Jet Plane)

I can hear the clock ticking in the salon.

         

         I’m sitting in the kitchen, looking one last time at the view, almost ready to leave for the airport in Nice and back, eventually, to Phoenix. I’ve turned off the water and drained the faucets; switched off the electricity and the gas stove; cleaned out the refrigerator and propped open its tiny doors.

          The air smells like lavender here. No kidding. There’s an owl hooting in the place—“hoot-hooo!”—the same owl that’s been hooting around the clock for the 10-plus years we’ve been coming here. It’s dark in the house, but I can just make out the sea-blue kitchen tiles, and I can hear the Big Ben clock in the salon ticking away.

          Five more minutes, and it’s time to head back to my other reality.

          Crap.

Thing I Hate Today: Responsibility

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