Today was to be an 'easy day', and it was. I both love and hate seeing the dentist; 'love' because I like that clean teeth feeling, 'hate' because the cleaning hurts. I was convinced to buy a 'waterpik'; I have no idea what it is or how it works, and will have to leave many clothes behind to fit the box int my suitcase. I am not sure the 'pik' is necessary, but now I have it.
I saw several patients who I canceled on Monday; I was relieved that the patient hospitalized for hepatitis, likely due to her antidepressant, was being released. I was able to get the ballet store for Maya and buy what she had requested. I also bought tights and leotards for another ballet mother at Fundacion Danza who had requested them. Apparently the cost in Quito is prohibitive (tariffs, 'impuestos') Whatever is imported is far more costly than locally made goods, and ballet attire is not manufactured in Ecuador. I wanted to buy more and do more, but time was tight, and I was determined to leave the office without anything undone.
Emily and I had a date at "La Tavola' in Little Italy. We made it in time, and had a delicious meal (except that the cannoli were made with pizzele). It was a relief to eat, to have a night off, to talk about whatever came to mind. For a while, I forgot that I live thousands of miles away and have just worked inhuman days for a week and should be toppling over. Baltimore felt like home, and I belonged here. Eric tells me I am in denial about moving, and today that was accurate, I felt as if I had never left. The night was balmy (the weather has been incredibly wonderful all week). I was certain I knew the restaurant busboy, in fact all sorts of people look familiar to me, and so many people recognize me, most of them familiar to me, but not necessarily recognizable. The same happens in Quito. I am convinced I know people I run into, and they appear to recognize me, but I cannot quite remember who they are. I wonder if this is normal or a sign of cognitive decline. IIn the past, would never forget a face. Eric asked me where we like to ride in Pululahua, and I remembered the name of the woman who ran a riding establishment so he was able to look her up on the internet; I impressed him with that one. Unfortunately,most of the time I do not know who people are that I ought to know.
I took way to0 long to pack, as if it really made a difference what I brought home, and what I left for our next visit. I guess that means that Quito is home. I visited our old house to see if it was ready for showing, and was uncomfortable with its uniform whiteness and the absolute extinction of us; the house is no longer ours, not in spirit at least, and its white and clean walls and empty rooms feel sad and forlorn. On the other hand it looks quite ready for a new family to inhabit. There is little reason not to sign the real estate contract except that it is 40 pages long and I have yet to read it. I was supposed to sign it and leave it for the real estate agent, but I told myself I had to read it first, another sign of denial and resistance to the inevitability of change. We have moved very far away, and will never live in the house again, and I have to let it go.
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