May 15

Tonight is the last night I will spend in this rented room in Boston. Tomorrow afternoon I leave for Smallwood and then on to Cologne and home at last. This had been a grueling trip, eight weeks away has felt like an eternity. The daily routine of work and then returning to this quiet, lonely room has been difficult, and even though the day has finally arrived it has been too long in coming. I’ve probably watched two dozen films and read a few good books, eaten lots of bad fast food and gained a few additional unwanted pounds in the process. When I get home the first thing I want to do is sit down on the couch in the living room and hold His Holiness in my lap and try to explain to him where I’ve been all this time and what I’ve been doing. He’s been wonderful, singing to me over the phone in the evenings when I’ve called home. He is usually sitting at the dinner table eating when I call although most of the time he doesn’t say anything. His mother tells me that as he listens to my voice on the speakerphone he nods his head or claps his hands … but I can neither see nor hear him very well. It’s only on those rare occasions when he picks up the receiver and sings to me that I can really hear him. She tells me that he’s grown so big that his chin reaches the top of the table - so much time has passed. The next few days and hours may be the hardest. I feel like one of the eager ponies I used to ride as a young boy, who knows they are heading back to the barn and in their enthusiasm pick up their pace and in the process often disregard the low-hanging limbs of trees that sometimes toppled me in a heap on the ground. I’ll watch my step in the coming days but I can feel my pace quickening, my heart beating faster and my attention span shortening. The front door is nearly in sight …