Our last day/night in Lavaud was fabulous. Gretchen and I took a mid-morning walk together and had an overdue sisterly chitter. We walked past Pomme and Couscous the happy donkeys, strolled along a little dirt road that John and I had been frequenting that surrounds a little pond, then took a blacktop road up a steep incline to get some good exercise while also avoiding the long grasses that earned poor John a fat tick (that he dubbed "Frenchie") on his leg that and imbedded itself right good. It was a hot, hot day so we lounged in the shade, enjoying lunch under the shade of the little tree out back that seems to bleed these tiny little bugs that forced me and Gretchen into the shower (separately) because they were so itchy and horrible. John and I snuck away for a romantic walkies together before the festivities began.
Francine began preparations for a huge feast of meats, breads, cheeses, salad and fruits. The guests ended up being delayed several hours because of some protests going on in Paris that brought train traffic to a halt. We ended up going ahead and eating supper but saved the guests food to eat once they finally arrived, which I think was around 10:30. The guests were Massimo, his wife Lily, son Gautier, his dog Kiki and girlfriend Liliu. Fiona and Liliu made friends instantly and they chatted all night about French culture and cute pets, helping each other with French and English language questions. Fiona has been an unbelievably good sport during so many adult convos that go on and on, and a more mature 11-year-old you could not find. (She and I have been sneaking some time together to play Uno, Mega Run, and draw pictures together on a computer app called Paper. She is creating some awesome art!)
The party went quite late and got quite boisterous, and Francine's attempts at hiding any new liquor bottles that she knew would be cracked and drained by the night's end went awry when Dad came sniffing around the kitchen. He must know of her hiding spots! Us hens started brewing loads of coffee and serving water, and had nice chats as we did the massive load of dishes. Suddenly we could hear things mellow into a hush, and the sound of Dylan's lone voice singing could be heard. We came out to hear him sing a tear-jerking rendition of The Parting Glass, and everyone lifted a glass a made a silent toast to the still beauty of the moment. Some intensely private and healing words were said between my dad, sister and me that were many years overdo. Silent tears were shed, and for a short time, I felt an envelope of caring protection from my dad that I have never experienced. No one thing can heal years of being torn, but it was powerful and as close to whole as this broken family will probably get. I feel that my dad let us into a part of him that only he knows, and his revealing this is his way of finally making a true connection with his kids.
