(no subject)

I'm in Potsdam, in the house in which I grew up, for what will almost certainly be the last time. I flew up here, which was a novelty; usually, I'm crammed in a Greyhound bus for ten hours. It was interesting: the plane I entered at Albany airport was not much bigger than a large car; the engine sounded exactly like a VW Beetle's, and while we were pre-taxiing toward the runway, the pilot actually opened her side window, which I've never seen a pilot do before. (Was she listening to the propellors, which took a moment to warm up fully? Getting a breeze? Waiting for a waitress?) Nice to look down at the Adirondacks, and remember the country from which I came.

Now, I'm here- not "home" but "here"- after ticking off businesses new and old in my mind as I drove through town; the house is unsurprisingly stark in terms of decorations, and any personal thngs I'd left here are gone. Dad walks with an old man's stoop now, far more so than last summer; his hearing aid whines, and he has to be reminded of things more often. Probably for the best- no, it is for the best- that things are happening now, although it's always wrenching to say goodbye to such a large part of one's past. I'm here for two days; how to sum up forty years' worth of life in that short a span of time?