Still upended by roles
I’ve noticed that as soon as we walk in the door Tatjana is in her role; here she is a daughter.
We’ve been talking about going home, Tin is asking to go home, we are thinking about home. We both question why we would both be so attached to a house that on paper seems to carry more burden than comfort.
Every day of my healing summer has been a journey to accept rootlessness, uncertainty, and leave behind the days of planning and accumulating.
In this house, Tatjana’s mother is trying to erase every footstep she makes – she gets rid of anything that is not needed for the day. She has stripped away every accumulation except for a few mementos – the masks from Africa, the tins from Russia, a child’s book.
Now at the end of our trip, going home only means going away from here. Home has changed its connotation, it is no longer a permanent place that you put down roots in, it’s a place of the imagination, an ever changing landscape that can be made on a whim, changed on a dime.
Our friend Ed sends us something he fashioned on a rainy, New Orleans summer day:
