Flying High

I drove Mom and my sister to the Atlanta airport at 6AM. The traffic was heavy even then. Mom sat in the front seat, stone-faced, which is unusual for her. Usually, she is saying “oh! oh!” in response to all the traffic. I thought her hearing aid batteries were dead. She was not paying attention to what I was saying or pointing out. Kittye changed her batteries and she continued to stare at the cars in front of us.

I parked in the handicapped parking place at Q7. Kittye got her into the wheelchair, loaded her bag on the handles of the chair and rolled her into the terminal. I carried the walker. She was still not smiling.

After locating the “Special Assistance” security line, we went into Starbucks for breakfast. Mom would not point to what she wanted, so I ordered a variety of sweets, after consultation with Kittye, a slice of lemon pound cake and banana walnut bread and a chocolate muffin. We found an empty chair in the Atrium with a cube next to it. I sat on the cube. Kittye sat in the red chair. Mom sat across from her and refused all offers of the breads. Kittye insisted that she eat two bites, which she did grudgingly. She can’t communicate with words, but she certainly can with looks.

At the security check-in, I said my goodbyes. Mom smiled and returned my hug. She can’t stay mad forever. I watched as she and Kittye went through the scanner feeling a little sad. She will be happy to be home and feel very adventurous for flying high in the sky, I imagine.

I drove home with joyful anticipation of an afternoon of quiet solitude. It is the yin and yang of life. One moment a bit of sadness, the next, flying high.

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