As I write this, I am sitting on a plane somewhere between Dallas, TX and Ft. Lauderdale, FL. I was sleeping, but when the flight attendants stopped the drink cart right next to my seat and started sorting all the empty pop cans 3 inches away from my ear… I woke up. That “wake-up call” is metaphorical for this whole trip thus far.


I am flying to Florida to meet my 83-year-old mom, and we are heading off tomorrow on a 4-day Bed & Breakfast junket. Along the way we will see two sets of old family friends and my friend and her brand new (4 day old) baby girl. If Mom’s Parkinson’s disease cooperates, we’ll ride horses… something we haven’t done together for decades.


Perhaps the story of this journey should start with the phone call I received last night. Immediately after spending an hour on an ADN conference call, while packing, and writing my blog for this morning, and straightening my hair, and dealing with Beth who is still quite sick, my mom called from my brother’s home in Florida. “We’ve been waiting for you to call us and finally gave up and called you!” Huh? Do the phones only ring in one direction? They are sitting at the pool having a glass of wine, and I’m supposed to know they are waiting for me to call? Isn’t it more fair to play a game of “you call me” when everyone knows they are playing? I am hereby declaring my intent never to do that to my kids.


I left the house this morning at 6:30 AM. I left behind a sick little girl, and that was a very difficult thing to do. Her dad stayed home with her today, but when I called from the airport in Dallas, Beth was in tears about me being gone, and because she was feeling so awful. So, of course, I was in tears, sitting there at the airport departure gate. A flurry of phone calls ensued, resulting in my neighbor bringing Beth some flowers and balloons, and my husband checking in with the doctor regarding Beth’s persistent fever and illness. Probably nothing the doc can do, but still…


To be continued...

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