Detroit, Detroit...

My whirlwind trip in and out of Detroit (Royal Oak, actually) last month was wonderful and terrible at once. I loved seeing both of my sisters and my dad together at the same time (that hadn't happened since 1989!) and my dad's family is the type that can make an enjoyable family reunion even out of a sad event like a funeral. Still, it was a sad occasion and so hard to leave. I meant to write a few weeks ago about my last day at Aunt Lizzie's house but couldn't, because I would've just sat and cried and even now, a month later, I just don't want to do it. It was just as hard as I thought it would be. Not hard being there, even though she wasn't there - that was lovely. Everything was just as I remembered it, even the smell of the house. (My youngest sister kept saying "how do you capture the smell of a house?" and I know what she meant. Places have their own individual scents. Aunt Lizzie's smelled of books and - I don't know what else, undefinable things. Memories.) But walking out the door for the last time - that hurt. And really, that's all I can say right now 'cause I have half a day left of work and probably shouldn't spend it crying at my desk! I'm so glad I was able to go, though.