In Transition

IT seems that the British Embassy reached its decision on me too late on Wednesday to get my visa to the UPS in time for Thursday delivery — so I spent yesterday hovering around the front door of Château Musser in vain. Not that my effort were wasted; I had the opportunity to sit with my three-year-old host, Master Luke, as we watched his favorite David Attendorough wildlife videos. Master Luke watches these so carefully and so repeatedly that he’s on a first-name basis with David. Luke observes and emphasizes the details of Attenborough’s narration. Certain sections of these videos hold a particular fascination for him; he can watch the flying squirrels soar from tree to tree over and over again, and his particular favorite is the segment in which Attenborough howls to attract the attention of wolves. Luke will watch along till this segment arrives, and immediately after the howling part, he’ll say, “I wanna watch the wolf howling again, please.” (We’ve been working on the “please” part.) So I back up the DVD to the beginning of the scene, and he watches it again. And again. And again. Wednesday we got up to twelve viewings; yesterday a mere six; this morning we’re up to ten so far. I will miss watching animal videos with Luke while Sarah ekes out a few more minutes of rest in her morning.
Any time now, though, the UPS delivery person will swing by with my passport and visa, and then I’ll shift into get-ready mode. My plane leaves Sunday in the late afternoon, and at this point it seems almost certain that Monday morning I will arrive in Scotland. What a long, strange, trip it will have been.

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