We leave a week from today. Time for some inspiration. So into this world of deadlines and errands, broken computers and broken glasses, appointments and schedules and list after list after list, there comes a breathing space, a long sigh. This is Hallstatt, a village in Austria’s Salzkammergut, an area of mountains and lakes east of Salzburg. Is it possible that we will see such a place? Is it possible that such a place even exists?
A friend I haven’t seen in years reminded me of a dream we shared in high school. We were going to throw our own ball — ladies would wear long gowns, we would swirl and twirl to waltz music — it would be the next best thing to Vienna.
In two weeks Tom and I are going to Vienna. We’re going to see Suzanne, who’s been studying there all semester. We’re planning very little — we’ll let her show us her world — but there will be music and art and coffee houses and Mozart and Beethoven and Brahms. There will be no dancing — the ball season is in January and February — but that doesn’t matter. Suzanne was able to dance through two of them (see her photo above) and I’m content simply to return to Vienna, which I saw so many years ago.
Dreams are funny things. They never fade away, but they soften with time. They’re replaced with gratitude, I think. And with memory.
This is for Drew and Brenda, who are heading west the day after tomorrow. “We’ll be living a hard day’s drive from Denver,” said Drew. And knowing my brother, he’ll make that drive. Often.
I don’t know if my parents planned it this way, but when you pack four kids in a station wagon and drive them across the country a few times at young and impressionable ages, at least a couple of them will end up with incurable wanderlust. In my family, Drew has it the worst. That he will soon be living in a city known as the “Gateway to the West” is very appropriate. I have a feeling that he will be using that gateway often. And who can blame him?
The Irish may not be great walkers, but, by God, they are great talkers. And since walking and talking are meant for each other, and since this is the day that everyone is Irish (or would like to be) let us raise a glass to the sons and daughters of Erin wherever they may be. Sláinte!