Yesterday, I drove 2 hours to rendezvous with my mother-in-law. We picnicked together, at a parking lot just after a toll booth--there were no tables, so we had to sit on the tiled flooring...surrounding the public toilets--and after we ate, we each drove back our separate ways. Only the Sprout was no longer in my car; she was with my mother-in-law, going to stay a week with her while Julien and I clean and pack the apartment.
Just before I arrived at the drop-off spot, a song by French singer Renaud "Morgane de toi" (link opens YouTube video) came on the radio. The first line of the chorus is: "J'suis qu'un fantôme quand tu vas où j'suis pas" (I'm just a ghost when you go where I can't follow), and hearing it, I started crying. The Sprout just turned 23 months old, and it is the first time I've ever been separated from her.
And driving away from her, I got weepy again. Not with sadness, just with the realization of time moving on, of longer separations to come.
Last night, I was planning on sleeping hard, finally catching up on almost two years of broken sleep. Wouldn't you know I woke up at least four times. So much for a little R and R without the wee one to care for.
After seeing her on Skype this morning at her grandma's, Julien and I decided to take a little overnight trip to Spain. The weather forecast said the day would be cloudy, with some sun. We saw only clouds and, after passing San Sebastien, buckets and buckets of rain.
Oh well. The countryside is still beautiful. I just hope we have a wee bit of good light and dryness tomorrow morning to enjoy the hermitage of San Juan de Gaztelugatxe. And if Julien feels up to it (he's coming down with our crud. >.< ), we'll go visit the Guggenheim Museum in Bilbao.