this imploding heart

up to speed.

I almost missed my flight. I certainly missed my bus, and the bus after that, and the bus after that. The bus I actually got on ended up breaking down at the end of the tunnel, so I arrived at the aeropuerte 25 minutes before my flight was scheduled to leave. I took my shoes off at security and didn't put them on again until I was safely at the gate.

Now, pinnacle of panic that I am, one would assume that I was losing my proverbial shit this entire time. One would be, suprisingly, incorrect. Once I woke up and realized that the bus I was supposed to be on had left 19 minutes ago, I threw on my (New! Cozy all-sweatshirt-material! Yet sleek!) dress and put my traveling fate in the hands of God and Metro.

I was delivered into the welcoming arms of the Spokane airport at 8:10am. I changed my knickers, brushed my teeth, tied up my hair and washed my face in the airport bathroom while waiting for my mother.

By late afternoon, my sister and 5 nephews arrived. The boys donned snowsuits and boots and spent the better part of the evening building snowforts and threatening each others lives with pieces of ice.

My father took the older 3 boys hunting at 4am. I spent the better half of the day doing things that, I think, must exhaust my mother. This morning, my sister pointed out that things like peeling potatoes at the sink and sweeping the stairs were making mom get all out of breath. She never says anything about it, but I think she's getting a lot more worn down than she lets on. 25 years of a broken body will do that to you, I suppose. So I scrubbed out the bathtub and put the cabinet doors back on. Cleaned the top of the refrigerator and shoveled the driveway. I hated doing all that stuff when I lived here, but I'm finding that the fewer things my mom has to do, the better I feel.

Dad kicked my ass at checkers 3 times in a row (I have a hard time anticipating future moves.). My 1st grader nephew was scolded for singing at the table (a major problem with all of our family members) and he replied: "What? My voice rocks!"

and I'm feeling better. Not quite so generaly melancholy. The entire town is covered with snow, I just got an invitation to play legos, and my father is lending me a pair of flourescent orange coveralls so that I can accompany him into the woods tomorrow. How could I be melancholy?

Happy Thankgiving, hotpants all.

Posted by Sonya at November 27, 2003 07:09 PM