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...
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...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)