We spent the last day talking about where and when we would get together again. Bizarrely, we seem to have settled on a July week in Connecticut - a state devoid of personality - as being not too inconvenient for those in Boston or New York. We'll rent a large house in the charming village of Stonington, where we'll know nobody. Apparently, that's an advantage, objections having been made to returning to the lake community where we spent summers as a family.
Home now and alone while R is in Philadelphia with her family, it feels like a week between time. Not yet 2017 and not enough left of 2016 to make a difference. I'm going to cook warm and soothing dishes and watch old movies for the rest of the year, starting with Gigi, which I don't even need to see to enjoy, playing in the background while I make a ribollita.