With dogged determination, I try to avoid potentially bad situations: driving in snowstorms. Checking luggage. Taking shortcuts in dark alleys at midnight.
The list of things-to-avoid keeps growing.
Recently I had to add: avoiding hikes on dangerous mountains.
And sometimes I think I need to add avoid flying to the list.
Stay home and be cozy.
This past year, my mother added a ton to her avoid list. But she is eighty-seven years old. It's the natural thing to do; she certainly is entitled to step off life's ever rising ladder--but nonetheless, it was disappointing, even heartbreaking when she crossed travel off her to-do list. Her bucket list runneth over.
Travel got crossed off after an exhilarating encounter with her nieces, and her daughters (me). After lunch, the dream trip to Switzerland --planning began. We would rent a chalet. Hire a chef to make fondue. Everyone could do their own thing. I would hike. Jane would plan and play in another organ concert. Kathie would search records for lost and ancient relatives. My designer cousins would shop for antiques and hit the Swiss Salvation Army for prized and unappreciated bric-a brac. Other cousins would visit the woodcarver.
After that lunch, I was checking my calendar for the month of September.
And then the morning came. Mom had second thoughts. The group text followed. Mom expressed her love for the women she claimed as her own. She admitted she was young at heart and in her mind but she was old in body. She didn’t want to travel. She didn’t want to wake up in a strange place. She didn’t want to be far away from her doctor even though she is healthy.
We all understood that she wanted us to allow her to grow old. We all were sad. I was sad. An era had ended. We all loved the young, the middle aged, and now the elderly mom and aunt.
And here I am at the airport. Four delays. My arrival has gone from 8:00 pm to midnight. I will make it home at 3:00 am ET. In the discomfort of wandering the airport I once again declared, “I will never fly again.”
I put it in writing to which tony replied, “Ha ha.”
In the crowded airport of delayed and canceled flights, I find one empty seat. Sitting next to me is an elderly woman who requires a motorized scooter.
She declares to her family, “I’m never flying again!”
My twin at heart!! I turn to her, “I say that everytime too.”
But I think she REALLY means it! She's been sitting at the airport since 5:00 a.m. She tells me she just wants to go home to North Dakota.
I empathize, because Dorothy had it right from the beginning.
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