My Trip

I mentioned I was going to go see the kids, right? Huge sigh* Aren't they lovely?

It's weird, I was going banannas, crying for no reason, fretting and feeling so lost. Then I realized all it meant was that I was missing them and had to schedule time with them. It was incredible, the way all my blues and fussiness disappeared as soon as the tickets were booked.

The same day, I realized that I wanted to finish my daughter's quilt. She thinks it was started when she was in third grade, but actually, her brother was the one in third grade. SHE was in first *oh the shame of it all* . It's taken me 12 years. And even with 12 years to finish, it has been done in a rather unconventional manner. No batting then backing, I bought a fleece blanket and in 6 weeks, quilted it directly to the pieced top. It's fluffy and warm and I'm proud of it. She was tickled to see it again.

While I was there my son's car died. On my first day there, I helped him strip out the stereo (worth several times more than the car itself) alongside the tracks by the highway where it had died. The memory already makes me laugh. The more things change, the more they stay the same, eh? Sorry Bubba, I know you'll find another set of wheels soon.

They're both doing SO well, each with a job they enjoy and partners who love them and treat them beautifully.

OOO. Weirdness. On the plane over, there's this lady sitting next to me. From the beginning of the flight, she's asleep with her eye mask on. All of a sudden, she sits up and says to me, I've never had this happen on a plane before.

I'm thinking all sorts of nasty thoughts, cos I'm like that...

and she starts telling me that a lady, maybe my mother or grandmother, wants her to tell me that whatever decision I've been agonizing over, I've made the right choice. To trust my decision and everything is going to be okay.

I'm quite the critic. I want to believe in stuff like this.. but I'm too rational. I realize a few of my fingernails are chewed ragged. Perhaps that's where she's picked up the idea I've agonized over something. I suppose we could all be said to be agonizing over SOMETHING.

It can't be my mom, I say. She's still living. The woman says it feels like a paternal grandmother. Although I know she loved me, I doubt it's her. But I let her continue, it's too fascinating, intriguing.

This stranger takes my hand and strokes my my last fingers. She says I am very intelligent and can even understand complex, scientific stuff. Hands up here, how many people wouldn't take such a compliment?

She's holding my very crooked pinky as if this is some verification of her words, following the zigzag between my knuckles with her forefinger. I didn't have the heart to tell her I slammed that finger in the back of a door when I was seven and it was never straight again. Maybe her mystic guide should have had her turn the finger over, so she could see the big crooked scar that bears testament. But hey, it was entertaining.

Anyway, I'm home. I love my kids, they still love me.

and omg, blogger has fucked my formatting again