As I had promised him for two weeks now, Maarten and I climbed the hill behind the house together. We sat at the peak for ten minutes in silence (at least as silent as is possible with a curious seven year old) contemplating the future next to each other. It was a great view down to the house and over the the hills across the small valley.

I took a nice long stroll with my mother next to the Carmel Beach along Ocean Avenue just being comfortable. Hopefully in my own quiet way I was able to convey to her how very thankful we are to have been able to visit for two weeks.

Finally, and the most symbolically, Thea shaved my head with the very same hair clippers that my mother used to run loose on my father's bald dome before he passed away two years ago. Kind of funny when you think about it.

No matter how difficult it is to depart, we leave with a combination of subtle sadness and regret over compensated by all the lovely memories we have been able to share.

...parting is such sweet sorrow,

That I shall say good night till it be morrow.

I'm glad you had a good time. I hate leaving my family, it's always so heart breaking. And I dread the trip home. It's not as fun, I don't look forward to it. But there's always another trip some other time, and we *do* , unfortunately, have to go back to our normal lives sometimes. Glad you're back, Kiff.