Nostalgia.

This weekend was a blur of movie watching, eating out, and walking around with a headache. My dad and sister came to visit me on Thursday night and stayed until Sunday morning, and we had a fantastic time despite the sinus headache that wouldn't die and some cloudy weather. We just kicked around town and the apartment most of the time, but on Saturday we went to Ijams Nature Center and had a great time looking at the trees, determining who was the most out of shape as we hiked in the hills, and ruining the placid quarry by skipping rocks on it. It was great to see them, but as usual, seeing my family just reminds me that one really can never go home again. I don't live in my parents' house, I can't see them for lunch, and in fact I only see them once or twice a year. I think that still being anxious about the new city, new program, and new social environment, exaggerated the usual nostalgia and made me more morose after they left than I otherwise might have been. Also not helping the nostalgia is hearing news about the family and family friends. Over the past five years or so, I've lost contact with one of my high school mentors and a woman I admire. She has a PhD and yet she teaches reading to uppity, ungrateful 8th graders by choice (if you know a 13 year old, have one yourself, or have ever been in a mall on a Saturday night, you'll understand how mind-blowing this is). She coached my high school Quiz Bowl team, without which I don't think I would have survived adolescence in tact, and wrote me a glowing recommendation for my undergrad applications. She also gave of her time so very generously -- and this is something I've only come to appreciate recently. A few weeks ago, she was in a horrible car accident. She'll be fine, eventually, but sustained some serious injuries, probably some deep emotional trauma, and has loads of physical therapy ahead of her. My first instinct when I heard about this was to do something. This, of course, means that I need to knit. So all other projects are on hold for a while as I work on a scarf for her. It's not going to be anything spectacular or impressive, but I want her to know that I'm thinking of her. Kay has already put this need to knit into words for me: This stupid scarf isn't going to change a thing. But if there's one thing that a piece of knitting shows very clearly, it's time. Time spent sitting there putting the stitches on the needle, time I want to give to her. Here, I want to say--here's some time for you. Before I go grab my hanky and shout at my hormones to quiet down (I cried watching a little old lady discover the price of her teapot on Antiques Roadshow this evening), here's a quick glimpse of the Jamesey: Getting there!