Hannah's Visit

One week down, and one to go before she has to fly back down to Bogota. Last Tuesday, Carla and I stood tall, like two Meerkats, watching for her approach. Hannah shot out of the arrivals terminal, smiling widely and jabbering non-stop before we could even hear her voice, and that's how the first week has been. She'll be jabbering away in another room and I'll yell at the ceiling of mine: “Hannah, are you talking to me? Because I can't really hear what you're saying!” “No Dad, I'm just talking.” she yells back. Everything with her is non-stop, fast, eager, hungry, excited...there are too many things to do in a day, every day. That's Hannah's life. It's great to have her here, I love her company and ride an endorphin high just by association. We made a huge pot of vegetarian spaghetti sauce and a blueberry pie, fresh boiled shrimp with lots of Old Bay and some dusted and fried with garlic. Last night it was Yamato for a boat load of Sashimi, washed down with warm Sake and several cold Asahis that dripped sweat rings into our napkins and made made the straw wrapper for Carla's iced tea expand and wiggle on the table like a white paper worm. Hannah and Carla run the dogs the long way around the lake each day after Hannah has already worked out...squatting and jumping, weights in hand, making the back deck flex and complain, then shaking sweat off like a wet dog before settling in for some serious yoga. Happy, she's always happy. Just so pleased to be here, or anywhere for that matter, totally immersed in, and loving, this gift of life that we are all given but which so very few consume as ravenously, or with such appreciation and attention paid to the meal itself.