Relative Something

After picking up Cyndie and Elysa at the airport yesterday, the stories flowed in rapid succession without pause. Tales about crossing into the Arctic Circle. Descriptions of a weekend at the island cabin of Norwegian relatives. Descriptions of the beauty of the fjords, the unique cruise ship, the uncharacteristic heat wave, the relief to be home after a loooong day of travel, and the ensuing jet lag.

Cyndie stayed awake as long as she could before conking out around 8:00 p.m., equal to 3:00 a.m. in the time zone they just returned from. That is on top of only getting a few hours of sleep the night before. I plan to offer her plenty of compassion and tolerance for any demonstrations of fogginess in the next few days.

Of course, at our age, it’s not clear that our mental acuity ever fully returns to previous levels after we tax ourselves to dramatic degrees.

Before Cyndie dozed into a restless early-evening slumber, she granted my wish for a few photos from her large collection documenting their adventures celebrating Elysa’s birthday, with a healthy dose of midnight sunshine.

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