Yours truly spent the last several days in beautiful Charleston, South Carolina where my friend, Laura, lives. Unfortunately, it took me three days to relax and, two days later, I had to return home. To a train wreck. I walked into the house, looked around and wanted to turn and get the next flight out. Instead, I took two deep breaths and went to my room. After telling myself that everything is fine, it's just dishes, toys, clothes, lint and a new stain on my brand new freaking carpet, I went upstairs to kiss my sleeping grandson several times and came back downstairs to my own room where I watched UNC kill Michigan State in the championship basketball game. Then I went to check on my cats and found that no one had refreshed their water - for five days. Granted, they had a little left (because being the knowing person I am, I put out an extra huge bowl of water which also was almost empty), but I was furious, especially because I have a diabetic cat. Somehow, someone is telling me to get outta here. Leave Michigan. In fact, run, don't walk, to the nearest Lufthansa terminal.
To add to the drama, on my return flight home, my plane was delayed. And delayed again. A weeping elderly woman in a wheelchair diverted my attention from my own self-centeredness and I sat with her and talked to her until she was fine. We boarded the plane and the pilot announced that there was a computer issue and they couldn't fly with such a problem. I sat there, in the very last seat on a very small plane across from a very acrid toilet thinking, again, someone is telling me not to go back. To run, as fast as I can, to the nearest Air France terminal. Instead, I deplaned when they announced it'd be awhile and ate a blueberry muffin. Finally, an hour later, we reboarded and I was able to get a seat away from the toilet. And away from the apparently very noisy engine behind the wall of that last seat.
After arriving 3 hours late and having no idea whether or not my husband would pick me up because he had a soccer game, I was delighted to find that I didn't have to hail a cab or stick a thumb out in the freezing cold to get home. That little darling decided that his wife was more important than his soccer game. Air France? Lufthansa? KLM? Instead, I gritted my teeth, smiled and got into the car as it pulled to the curb.
"Is there anything to eat at home?" I asked, already knowing the answer. "Nope," he replied. Instead, we drove to a Taco Bell, someplace I haven't been to in years. Pulling up to the drive-through, a barely audible young man's voice asked, "What can I get for you tonight?" I had no idea. There were too many things to choose from. I didn't even know what a chalupa was, let alone what kind I wanted. "Uh. Hold on," I called, leaning towards the speaker from the passenger's seat. Defeatedly, I slumped back and gazed out the windshield. "I have no idea." (Loud sigh from the previously inaudible voice). "Never mind!" I yelped. "Go, Druck. Just go. I have no idea what that stuff is. I'll eat a can of beans. I'm really not that hungry." But Druck insisted we go in and I figure out what I wanted. Not one to make a scene, I dutifully obliged, got out of the car and stood there for as long as the counter girl could stand it. Finally, she said, "Well?" I ordered two burritos, one for me and one to bring to my daughter, and that ended that standoff.
Later on, Druck told me he spent some of my time away fantasizing about at least two of my five cats going to Kitty Heaven while I was gone. Before speaking, he checked my face thoroughly and then continued. "I thought, what would I tell you if you called and one of them had croaked? 'Oh, they're fine, but I think one is dead?'"
I commented that Kozmo, one of my eldest cats, looked awful. "Is he still in that bed by the wall?" Druck asked. "Yes," I replied. "Hmm. I don't think he's moved from there since you left. I thought maybe he was dead and worried about what kind of trouble I'd get into. I figured I'd tell you I just thought he was sleeping the entire time." "Oh dear God," I lamented. "Why does everything come apart when I'm not here?" "Because we need you," he said, waiting and watching me with a sheepish grin on his face.
As I leaned back on our bed, resigned to my fate of being the conductor of this extremely mismatched orchestra, I leaned into the music and into my husband's waiting arms. Pausing to gaze into those eyes again, eyes that I know belong to one who desperately needs me, I bent towards him and, as our lips parted, I inhaled his sweet breath and knew that no one else could lead this band better than I could.
For now, the Great Escape will have to wait. While he fantasizes about cats leaving for another realm, I'll fantasize about tuning the instruments a little better and, with my conductor's wand, I'll do what I do best. Love them all.
Copyright 2009 liamsgrandma
