Our supper table conversation wasn’t as boisterous as it had been on previous occasions. My sister was still in the throes of mourning my leaving. Nothing I could say could keep her from it. If my brother-in-law made a joke (for which he is famous), she would be laughing and on the verge of tears at the same time.
Our meal over, the couple split the cleanup. They were both good cooks and he was as willing to do the chores as she was.
Something had been spilled on the floor and must be cleaned up. I’m including this not too flattering picture of my sister because it shows just how agile she was. Plus you can see her shoes that were just like a pair I had.
My brother-in-law had been busy in his basement workshop and presented me with several of his creations including a skillet leveler.
He’d made a quantity of them for a fundraiser at their grandchildren’s school. They had sold like hotcakes.
After the last good night’s sleep in the Great Northwest, the house was bustling with last minute preparations before leaving for the airport. I’d had company on the flight from San Francisco to Seattle but it was going to be me, all by my lonesome, going back east. I couldn’t say I didn’t want to leave. I was beginning to feel the pull of home, be it ever so humble.
The car was loaded and we set out for the airport. The highway was busy but my brother-in-law maneuvered the car expertly and got us to our destination (my interim one) in short order. He hauled out my giant suitcase and I wheeled it to the counter to check in.
All the preliminaries were taken care of and we settled down in the waiting area next to the gate. Someone in charge of signage had a sense of humor even though it wasn’t quite accurate.
I guess that would be true, though, if a person were traveling west.
All too soon for my sister’s emotions, my flight was called and I boarded. I was sure they were watching as the plane took off so I waved even though it was certain they couldn’t see me.
It had been a good two weeks but I was ready to get back home.
Coming into Cincinnati, we were on time but my flight out wouldn’t follow that pattern.
My brother-in-law had presented me with a book about cats—he was a great one for buying at the local thrift shop—so I was entertained while I waited.
After less than an hour from the scheduled time, the other passengers and I boarded the plane for the last leg of my flight. I couldn’t wait to get back and see my family. It seemed longer than it actually was. My granddaughter was growing like a weed and I was anxious about the one on the way, too.
Couldn’t the plane fly any faster?