Stickney

"There is a forgotten, nay almost forbidden word that means more to me than any other. That word is England." - Sir Winston Churchill

It is a beautiful morning. The sun is streaming in the window. It's strangely quiet and very early, still before 6 A.M. I've been awake since before five o'clock. It's an adjustment morning. Our red eye flight to London was uneventful. Though I had hoped to sleep, I knew that was unlikely. I managed a couple of ten minute catnaps and spent the rest of the night resting with my Ipod in my years and my sleep mask on. By the time we arrived in London I had that feeling in the pit of my stomach that makes it hard for me to distinguish if I'm hungry or just tired.



I don't know how Merv managed to do it, but we picked up our rental car and immediately hit the road for Stickney where Merv's brother Eric was awaiting our arrival. Jacob navigated so I climbed into the back seat for the three hour journey. I was asleep in about five minutes. I got an hour. At one point Merv was struggling with fatigue so we made a short stop at a McDonald's on the highway. Lest I think I was at home, I was made aware of the foreignness of my location when the order taker asked if I wanted black or white coffee. These English people have a strange way of speaking English. We drove through some pretty towns and villages. This part of the country is very flat so often the only tall things on the horizon were church steeples and wind turbines.



Our arrival at Eric's was an emotional one. It has been six years since he, Merv and Jacob last saw one another; five since he last saw me. A lot has happened in those years. For one thing, Jacob was a boy six years ago. I don't think Eric was prepared for the man who was before him. And when I last saw Eric, I was recovering from treatment, my hair just breaking the surface of my scalp. Eric looks good, better than ever in fact. His hair is all gray now, the lines in his face etched a little deeper in these last years. His place is small but warm. He has been very gracious, giving his bedroom to Merv and I and his guest room to Jacob. He is sleeping on the couch in the lounge.



He took us to a great pub for dinner last night in Revesby. It is a tiny village comprised of a group of gingerbread houses and an old stone church. Eric's daughter Anthea along with her husband Jason and two of her sons, four year old Josh and eight-month-old Alfie joined us at the pub. Anthea was a child when Merv last saw her. It was a first meeting for Jacob and I. She sat next to Jacob, across the table from me. It was an amazing sight. They look very much alike. Her eyes, like Jacob's, are the same blue of their late grandfather, their noses and jaw lines bear a remarkable resemblance. There is no mistaking their blood relationship. That was a first for me. As the only child on my side of the family, Jacob doesn't have any young lookalikes at home, no siblings, no blood related cousins. Seeing them together, touched my heart.



Back at Eric's, I managed to stay up until 10:00 P.M. but finally gave in and went to bed. I don't know what adventures this day will bring. Eric wants to show us some of the other towns and villages in this area. There are windmills and castles to been seen. And tonight there is another pub for the boys to sample the local beers. I can hear the doves now, calling out their morning greetings. It's time to get up and step into the day.