R & R, Sylvia Style

My stay in Lyon with English teacher Yvette and her husband Oliver (accountant, tech wiz, chef) and her son Jeremy (economist, MBA, soccer star) had as its purpose the rest and recovery requisite to the end of a 15 day student tour. After a delightful and exhausting day at school Tuesday, I did accomplish the rest, but the R & R became rest and risk. It was utterly against the grain for me to have to submit my final best offer for Helen’s house this week without knowing what the other bidder would choose. I had to gamble, which I loathe. I finally managed by putting myself into the Euchre frame of mind and reminding myself to trump high if you really want to win the hand. It was more a relief than a victory when I got the word that my offer was accepted. Now on to inspection and subsequent renegotiation of price, closing, and preparatory work, hopefully just before closing on my house (still waiting for that first domino to fall.)

Yvette and I lounged as only spent teachers in the final days of school can, thoroughly enjoying each other and a cup of tea. Yvette came down with the obligatory end of term illness, so we were content to take it easy at home. Their hospitality was exemplary.

One of the highlights of my visit was the Wednesday afternoon premier of Prince Caspian in French. Yvette dropped me at the theater and went home to siesta while I wandered in Narnia, deliriously happy to visit there with a theater of small children. I left with regret, last as usual, and half in the clouds look around for Yvette. Instead I saw Aslan. Riveted, stunned, speechless, I stood before the miniature statue. I touched his face to see if it was real. It was simply a direct replica, an astounding likeness. Still bewildered, I climbed into Yvette’s car and gasped, “Look! There! Do you see that lion? Am I imagining it?” She laughed and reminded me that I was in Lyon. I belatedly made the connection. Duh. Still the hair stands up on my neck when I think of the chances of being in Lyon for the premier. Needless to say there was Sarah presence and Sarah laughter – I see her in Susan and in Lucy both. How she would have loved it! Do you suppose that Narnia is the land the scissors walk to?