Ticking Away

At 6:14 a.m. on Tuesday, I walked outside with Mosotos and saw the Super Shuttle blocking the driveway of the converted firehouse across the street. I pretended I didn't see it and yanked the dog down to the holly bush and mulch patch at the condos on the corner. He peed, and I pulled him back toward the house. He looked at me, confused. This wasn't how we did it, and it was a good hour too early. Poor little dog.

I handed my luggage to the friendly Nigerian man and climbed into the shuttle. It was still a couple minutes shy of 6:23, the earliest time I was supposed to have been ready. "We can wait," the driver said. I knew I had left my sunglasses on my desk. I told him to go ahead. We headed out in the opposite direction of the airport, and the Nigerian's marveled over laborers waiting in the 7-11 parking lot on Broadway. I explained the phenomenon. We delved into a conversation, or really a monologue, on immigration laws, "carboats," Castro and landfill living. We arrived at our destination and retraced out steps back to my neighborhood. The Nigerian was telling outrageous stories of favors passengers had asked him. "Drive me 26 miles back, I forgot my dentures," and "Can you come back in an hour? I haven't taken a shower yet." When I noted that I had driven all over town with them before 7 in the morning, he said, "Do you want to go back? We can stop."

"No," I sighed. "Then I'd just become a story you'd tell other passengers." He laughed heartily.

A full forty minutes after I began my journey, people who were practically my neighbors boarded the shuttle, having had at least 30 minutes more sleep than I did. I learned about their grandfetus and their houseboat. I arrived at curbside check-in just ahead of my grandparents. We sat together on the plane.

I'm fresh off my first roundtrip flight to Charlotte. I didn't miss the 16+ hours in the car, but I did I spend hundreds of dollars and 30 hours to be at my brother's Senior Recital. He wore a long white tuxedo jacket and a faraway expression, sang in four languages, and was fantastic. I flew with my family for the first time-- the whole family. Grandparents from both sides.

Fast food, fast talking-- many voices all at once-- fast trip. Mosotos was beside himself when I returned, exhausted, late last night. And it was nice to have someone to come home to.

I was six miles from The Boy twice while in Charlotte, but we never connected. He was done with training at 5 this evening but can't come home until tomorrow. I'm headed to D.C. way too early in the morning, and The Boy's father will be in town for a quick car delivery/repair trip. Easter on Sunday and I can't believe we're that far into the year. Two separate friends remarked to me, "It just occurred to me how soon your wedding is. It's like really soon." It is like really soon. 38 days and counting. I'm aware that most of my sentences lead to wedding details or worries. Amber reminded me today, "Don't worry friend, this won't last. Soon you'll be putting together wagons and filling sandboxes," she alluded to her afternoon plans. She's right. I'm looking forward to that, but it wouldn't hurt me to enjoy the trip.