5:00 PM, Cape Elizabeth Maine: Picked up in black stretch limousine.

7:15 PM: Arrive to Logan Airport, Boston Massachusetts.

7:45 PM, Logan Airport: Try to act cool as I hang around in Business Travel lounge. Hold Mom's hand at the bar. Eat some potatoes and fish even though I am not supposed to.

8:20: Board the plane. Give mom a kiss. She is going upstairs on a plane. I go to the back of the plane. Sit in between two women.

9:30: Watch movie so terrible it's already almost forgotten. Queen Latifah manifests her greatest life dreams when she thinks she's dying of a brain tumor but wait! There was a problem with the CAT scan machine. It was all just a mistake, so she can now marry LL Cool J, run a restaurant and hug Emeril Lagasi. Not once do I even consider having to choke back tears.

11:15: Catch the end of Peter Jackson's "King Kong." Within 4 minutes I'm choking back tears. Red-head looks at me. Don't look at me, I'm not in the mood.

8:00 AM, London Heathrow Airport: Stumble around confused because I didn't sleep under the fluorescent lights and with the red-head crinkling her plastic bags and newspaper. Hold back nausea. Buy 60 dollars worth of make up I don't need just because it looks like it wants to be purchased.

10:30 AM, Depart London for Brussels. Read about Eddie Vedder and chat with kind gentleman from Great Britain.

12:00 PM: Land in Brussels. Merick from the Delhaize Group Distribution center picks us up. Tinny sounds of Elvis on the radio make me nauseous and confused.

2:15 PM: Arrive to Marriot. Room's not ready. Mom and I go to the locker room for showers. Take a sauna and count my lucky stars. Tale three deep breaths of steam and I'm feeling better.

3:30 PM: Mom leaves for her meeting. Room's still not ready. Brought to the Executive Suite. Decide that Executive Suite is a sterile room full of fucking bullshit artist business men who want to feel important because they don't have to pay for their soda and crackers. Tote my bags down to the lobby bar so I can watch people on the street and drink a beer. Gladly pay double for the beer and meet the bartender so I know him later.

4:00 PM: Room's ready. I am peeling off clothes as soon as I walk through the door. Collapse in the bed. There are 6 pillows. Have a nightmare that I'm lost in a foreign country and S. is mad at me.

4:30 PM: Sound of cheering in the distance wakes me. I fall back asleep.

5:3o PM: Mom comes home from meeting. It hurts to open my eyes. She says they are "red as anything." I ask her to speak more softly.

5:45 PM: More cheers in the street. Then more. Now horns and cars and horns and cheers cheers big roaring cheers.

I go to the window.

5 men gather at the Stock Market building. It's and ancient with columns and spires.

5:55 PM: 20-30 people have joined the other men. Red, white, green Italian flags are flying. They are chanting and clapping and hugging. More cars go by. More flags. More honking. The men in yellow shirts are sulking.

6:15 PM: 200-250 people are gathered on the steps. Red, white, green. The police arrive. Flags and honking and hugging and clapping. Flags in the middle of the street. Flags for the cars to drive under. Jumping and cheering and honking and more flags.

I stumble to put some clothes together. I put on my new make-up. It feels great.

6:45 PM: Outside is cool and gray and life and energy and joy and passion in the streets. Everyone smiling and laughing and honking and celebrating and carrying Italian flags.

7:30 PM: We sit for Thai food. Five Americans and one Dutch man eat Thai food in Brussels. It is the best Thai food I have ever had. Fresh and herbal and light and fishy salty. We talk about business. We talk about sports. We talk about food. Pizza. Basketball. No one asks me a question.

10:15 PM: Back at the hotel. Find beautiful email from S. waiting for me. Smiling and feeling that Portland is not so far away.

10:30 PM: Walk very slowly with mom to Gran Plaz. Arm in arm. Silent. Walking very slowly around the Plaz. She knows where to go for a waffle. It's not a Belgian Waffle, it's just a Wafle because we are in Belgium.

We walk.

Very slowly.

Arm in arm.

I look up at the tall spires and my lucky stars are poking their heads behind them. Hi, stars. Hi, lucky me.

We walk slowly to the streets where every restaurant is red and yellow and warm and seafood with vegetables. All is outside and beautiful and different.

We walk back. We are silent.

We come to our room. More horns. More cheers. Mom snoring. She hates it when she snores. Lucky stars are still there.

Behind the yellow curtains in our room.