Going Back

Time was running short by now. Though Mike and I would happily have extended our stay in Spain, and though Price Waterhouse would have let us do it, we knew we should go back to the U.S. For one thing, the kids felt they were missing stuff they didn’t want to miss—American culture, movies and TV shows and the like. For another, Mike was pretty sure that in order to make partner at PW he would need to be in New York, or else he would be easily overlooked. So we prepared to go home.

I made a couple of excursions with my women friends—a trip with Clarice and Amy to the town of Sigüenza, where we saw storks nesting in chimneys on a sunny day, and a ride up a mountain with Sandra, Clarice and Christiane to the “weavers’ town”. This was a place Sandra knew where some German women had come to teach the local Spanish women the trade of weaving. It was an economic development effort, to help the women achieve financial independence, and it was also an effort to preserve the fine craft. We toured the workshop, saw work in progress, and bought some beautiful scarves and shawls.

The Douglas family was getting ready to return to the U.S., too. Troy was set to start college at the University of Richmond, and Phil was retiring from the Air Force. He, Ana and Carmen had decided to live in Colorado Springs, where many of their retired Air Force friends were.

Their lease was finished before the end of June, but they wouldn’t be leaving for another week, so they came across the street to stay with us in the interim. We didn’t see much of them—they had a lot of Ana’s family to say goodbye to—but we did spend a couple of lazy evenings together, sitting by the pool, enjoying our wine and olives and chorizo.

One morning Troy was sleeping late in the basement guestroom, but Lisa was up early as usual. “You have to say happy birthday to Troy when he gets up,” I told her. “He’s eighteen!”

“Really?” she said. “How old is he?”

I looked at her, puzzled. “I just told you—he’s eighteen!”

“But how old is he?” She stopped herself for a moment. “Oh, I get it!” she said. “I thought you said ‘He’s a teen’!” We laughed for ten minutes over that one.