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Tuesday, June 27, 2017

To Russia, with love....

We have been here for three and a half years.  I attended the gym...I wasn't happy with it.....while grateful for the equipment, the "atmosphere" left a lot to be desired.  I am too young...or too old....I cannot live with my parents.  Not at this stage of my life.  It is very difficult to be inspired to work out on a treadmill, or anything else, to the soothing strains of Montovani.....or a backdrop of hate "news."

So....we move on.  I lost a "friend" or two....a couple of women I thought I might be able to relate to.  It turns out, in the long run, this was impossible.  I won't go into details.  We live in different realms.

We walk our beloved boy, Harry, two to three times a day.  We take different routes to break up the boredom...this is a condo community...nothing changes....other than missing gorgeous trees they take down...or a chemical application....

So.  When we go left at the corner, we often encounter our Russian neighbors.  They have always been friendly.  It started with "hello."  Then a wave as the woman drove by us in the morning on her way to work. Then, suddenly...more talk.  The "management" demands that they take out flowers.  Take out flowers?  Are they crazy?  They must take out flowers...there are too many.  Would we like some?  Yes....we would.

From there we learned each other's names...Ilya and Lydia.   That's better.  I kept calling them either the Russians or the Solzhenitsyns.  I felt bad doing that, but Ilya does have a resemblance. 

More time.....My husband hurts his knee and has surgery.  "Why are you walking alone?"  Then I have lumbar spinal surgery.  "Why are you walking alone?" 

We finally reach our breaking point.  We will move from here, it's driving us crazy.  We tell our friends around the corner.  "Wonderful!  Wonderful!  Come in!  Have a drink!"  I have my dog....
"Bring him in!"  And we do.

They are beautiful people. Educated. Smart. Funny.  Sweet.  This is how people should be.  This is how I remember things as a kid..."Come in!"  And my mother, too..."Come in!" 

Seems to me somewhere along the way we all either stopped asking or stopped coming in...I don't know which one...like the chicken and the egg...came first.

We have now shared several evenings with our Russian friends.  I am going to miss them terribly now, when we move. Damn it.  They are delightful and insightful and so genuine.  I will make sure we do not lose track of one another.  I hope, in our new home, one day...I get to say, "The Russians are coming!"

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