No matter how many times I make this trip across the ocean, I am always surprised that breakfast here, at the farmette, with Ed, with the usual cheeper art on the table and predictable foods before us...
...will feel so distant, of another era in very few minutes. You're there, you're not there. It's that simple.
It's a cloudy day, a drippy day that promises to change to a bitter cold day very quickly, but not until after I am out of here. Ed listens patiently to all my instructions (clean this, eat that, water these...), then drives me to the airport where I wait for my flight to (connection no.1) Minneapolis.
(to be continued)