July

July, we're not so sure about.

The reason?  Since January, we have been eagerly anticipating the arrival of the French family with whom we'd stayed, last year.  Back in January, they said they'd be coming in July, and we thought Great! We've  thought about places to take them, we've  cleaned and rearranged furniture, we've looked at recipes for foods that they might like -- American foods, yes, but not the run-of-the-mill stuff that we eat all the time. We wrote to them, six or seven or ten times, to say that we were thinking of them, we were hoping they can stay a long time. Asking when they'd come, so that we could make some reservations for some popular attractions.  We thought of New York, the Statue of Liberty, Washington, perhaps Williamsburg.  What would you like?

We did not receive a single response.  Not one.

To say that this flummoxed us is to put it mildly.

Perhaps we were entirely wrong about them. Or perhaps we were right, but things happened to change their minds about us, or the whole idea of coming.  Or maybe they just don't believe in the concept of answering letters. Whatever.  All we know right now is, if they come, we'll be pleased,  delighted even, but still: a little disgruntled.  Why didn't you answer? we'll be thinking.  And if they don't?  Even more so.

I've mentioned this to some of the French people I've spoken with, trying to find out if, perhaps, this is considered normal for French people.  And to a man, they've been surprised.  No response? Nothing at all?  They shake their heads. One of them said This is why I don't trust people. 

I still trust them, but I'm beginning to wonder if I'm just being a sap, again.

And like poking at a tooth that aches, I can't stop thinking about it.