I think yesterday was the best day of my entire life. Probably not, but right now it feels that way. Maybe it’s just contrasted with all of the stressful days I’ve felt for the past 3 months. Dad’s here, and sitting at the breakfast table I was struck by the feeling that it just feels natural to have him here. I begged him to move down here (again), and he smiled. I don’t think he’s buying it, but I’m an awful persuasive salesperson, so I’ll keep working on it. He brought down the cello from his string quartet, and we did our best to tune it after not being played for almost 30 years. Surprisingly the strings were still intact. He came along to my lesson with Elise. I told her I’ve been practicing the songs, as the jump around notes were better for me to learn placement and pitch. I am especially adept at “Song of the Wing,” so Elise played the bass line - duet! Dad was speechless, he was so happy. I can understand why. To have those beautiful instruments just sitting there all these years, with the dream of having them played - separately, but hopefully all together. At least part of that dream was coming true. At least I don’t totally suck - I’m getting pretty good at pizzacato - bowing comes next week. That I’m pretty scared of, but I’ll just keep taking it one stroke at a time. It’s good to have a dream coming true, to be walking toward a fun, worthy goal, and not just feel like I’m struggling just to keep my head above water. Cello brings me joy - it makes my soul sing.
Dad brought his collection of bows and after my lesson we went to Christian Eggert’s shop to have everything looked at. Glen was so excited when he saw Dad’s Satori bow, but I was talking to Ryan about the cello, so I only heard, “I would be honored if you’d let me restring this bow.” I looked over to see Glen reverently and gently holding a bow in his hands. It moved me, this love and focus and dedication. They were supposed to close at 3, but we were there until 4. They weren’t anxious to close. Dad hadn’t had a nap all day, but just kept going, the music adrenaline fueling him. Kari had beautiful chicken on toast waiting for us, and afterward Dad and I played a rousing game of Rummikub, the game our dear friends Mary and Bob taught us to play in Alaska. After dinner we started looking through the final edit on Dad’s book, talking about his life, and how beautiful the book looked. It’s almost done, we’re on the last leg, and it feels like we’ve been running this book marathon for years. It HAS been years - seven to be exact, since I first started on the book. Taking care of Mom slowed the project down, but I’m still so thankful she was alive through most of it. I know it meant a lot to her.
Exhausted but still not done, Kari and I sat on the floor cutting out deep pink stretchy fabric, trying to make a convertible dress that may or may not be her bridesmaid’s dresses. Dad came along to the fabric store earlier and took pictures. He had never been in on any wedding planning, and couldn’t get over it. Yet again, I’m so glad he was able to be a part of that. The dress isn’t sewn yet, but we totally cut it all out - no small task in a cluttered front room and crappy cutting scissors. I even configured a giant compass out of a measuring tape (the dress calls for a giant circle with a hole cut out of the middle for the waist). Done? Not yet. The fragrant smell of cooking rum dances through the house and I stay awake long enough to glaze it before I cover it and put it in the garage to stay cool. A full day? Yes. A busy day? Most certainly. A happy day? Most excellently so. My heart is full. It cannot feel any happier, and I am so so grateful for this feeling. I will keep it always in my memory, so when my days are not so happy I can remember this time right now. And maybe the memory will make me smile.