I am still within the first five months of being back in the United States of America after a long absence and find the ease of communication (I love the English language) refreshing, yet once I move beyond that in conversation I find little to which I feel kinship. I must have left some part of my mind behind. There are skills required to communicate in this culture which I have not retained. Instead I have replaced them with . . . something. I have a lot of memories, have stored them up for my adventures’ winter.
There is on my kitchen table a Pokémon card in an Italian edition. I believe a young visitor to our house left it by accident and it may take some doing before I find to whom it belongs. I was waiting for the loaves of bread I baked this evening (buttermilk & honey with course oatmeal for crunch). It struck me that, beyond being a forgotten toy, it seemed the remnant of some destroyed civilization. One day a time traveler will frame it and take pride in its pretty runes (which look to me like Lucida Grand). Everything around it in my mind is so very far away from my present life.