The other day, someone asked me what I had been up to. I didn't even know where to start. The Poconos seemed to be a good place. What a wonderful time.
We returned, and Mary got sick. Bedridden sick, for three days before she went to the doctor who prescribed antibiotics. And her biggest worry? That she may have given it to others in the Poconos. Hope not.
Then Joe's friend, Omar, from St. Andrews came for the weekend with his wife, and Mary rallied. As soon as Omar left, Joe got sick, bed-ridden sick as well, until he went to the doctor's and they put him on antibiotics. One small hitch. He was supposed to leave the next day. It was touch and go for a while, but he knew he had to get on the plane. He rallied to pack and do his best to move in the right direction, lying in bed up to the minute we loaded the car.
Travel these days is no fun, they say. Joe is case in point. We drive to JFK and he's checking the departure on his phone the whole way. Scheduled for 10pm. He's feeling a little better (thank you Mucinex and adrenalin) and as soon as they head off to security with John screaming because he can't pull his own suitcase, Joe gets a text message that the plane was delayed five hours.
What could he do? What could we do? Then he calls us a little later and we're about an hour away on our way home to tell us the flight was delayed until 9am. The team rallies. He gets a hotel room nearby, Leonor starts working on the follow-on flight that they will miss, and Margaret orders diapers and milk through some DoorDash grocery app. They get to the hotel about the time we get home. Uggh.
We get a photo of the three guys the next morning on their way back to the airport – Thomas and John look fresh and raring to go, Joe looks like he's been through a ringer. A ten-hour flight, with a two-hour layover to make the connection, after customs and immigration. They did make it and arrived home safely and into the arms of their mother and wife..
How could I forget to mention the tree that fell on our house in the midst of all this? Well, grazed it actually. One of those micro-bursts that for three minutes had us running around the house shutting windows, but by the time we got to the second floor the huge maple limb had crashed down from our neighbor's property all the way across our peach tree and on to the side of the garage.
Besides that, Mrs. Lincoln, how did you like the play?
Anyway, all's well that ends well. Maybe. Joe and the boys are reunited with Leonor and Luisa, and their toys, and their pillows. They were fresh and ready to go in time for Thomas' birthday on Friday, and a party at home on Saturday. Kids are resilient. Grandparents, I'm not so sure.
We're actually fired up and raring to go now as well. We feel blessed to have so much full time with Joe, Thomas and John. It's the only benefit to living so far from our children that when we see them it's all in, no two hour visit and we're off.
Returning to normal, it was all things Melville this weekend, the annual Melville birthday celebrations. We went to a fund-raising "gala' and silent auction that was surprisingly fun. Yesterday, we read at the Moby Dick marathon, and our sections included references to Berkshire marble! This morning we went on our annual Melville/Hawthorne hike to the top of Monument Mountain with a group of academic types who launched a little seminar at the top of the mountain.
How could I forget birthdays? Mary's birthday last Sunday was actually a little subdued since she still wasn't feeling that good. Ice cream cake always works though. We saw pictures in upstate New York of Donald's birthday. These parties started on our last night in the Poconos and will end with Everett's party in a few days.
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