I rarely ask her how she’s doing. The answer might be different every few minutes. She’s not as clear about her likes and dislikes as she once was.
To me, her quality of life is better than when we lived in Seattle. She gets lots of attention, she still feels in charge of many parts of the day, and she's eating well. When she’s happy, she’s still got the greatest smile in the world.
Physically, she is doing no worse, which is a relief. I had been afraid that the heat and the strain of moving here might take a big toll. Emotionally, she goes up and down pretty fast.
There's no predicting what's going to worry her. Sometimes the apartment (or my mouth!) smells “stinky,” “dusty,” “fishy,” or “stale.” Other times she wakes up thinking about a Thai cult that she heard about before we arrived. At meals, she interrupts to remind me that I shouldn’t eat eggs or chicken in this land where bird flu was a problem last year. Then something funny will occur to her, and a big laugh will erupt out of nowhere.
Complicating the task of gauging Jip’s moods is her almost unintelligible speech. She can be talking for several minutes before I understand the big picture. Luckily, she keeps on talking almost all the time, sometimes even talking to herself when she is alone.
So is Jip any happier than she was in the States? Not really. Would she be any happier anywhere else? Probably not. Does she have a toothache? No she doesn’t! Let’s celebrate her non-toothache, and all the other things she ISN’T complaining about!
2 comments:
Thanks for the photos, John. Jip smiling to celebrate no toothaches does look happy to be there.
A fine poem on Writer's Almanac this morning!
Black Umbrellas
On a rainy day in Seattle stumble into any coffee shop
and look wounded by the rain.
Say Last time I was in I left my black umbrella here.
A waitress in a blue beret will pull a black umbrella
from behind the counter and surrender it to you
like a sword at your knighting.
Unlike New Englanders, she'll never ask you
to describe it, never ask what day you came in,
she's intimate with rain and its appointments.
Look positively reunited with this black umbrella
and proceed to Belltown and Pike Place.
Sip cappuccino at the Cowgirl Luncheonette on First Ave.
Visit Buster selling tin salmon silhouettes
undulant in the wind, nosing ever into the oncoming,
meandering watery worlds, like you and the black umbrella,
the one you will lose on purpose at the day's end
so you can go the way you came
into the world, wet looking.
by Rick Agran
from Crow Milk © Oyster River Press.
I'm finally doing a major catch up. Great to see Jip's pictures and to get John' perceptions of how things are going. I appreciate this window to your world -- a world away and yet so familiar.
My emails to family and friend don't have the jip and John updates these day so I have had questions from friends and relatives about how you are doing. it just occurred to me how easy it is to put them in touch with your world.
Spent the weekend in Portland taking in the ballet and playing with construction equipment on the floor with my nephew. While walking down the street my sister-in-law asked about Jip and how the two of you were doing in Thailand.
love,
B.
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