Just a quick post for a Friday evening. A local kid was killed in a one-car crash last night. These people are part of the Oak Bluffs family, neighbors. My sister's kids grew up with those kids living on the same street.
I can't begin to fathom the agony of losing your child, but I think that anytime a kid dies, the whole world should just stop for a little while.
Friday, June 12, 2009
Sunday, June 7, 2009
beach day one
Well, not actually the whole day, it was closer to 2 hours. I don't think the water is over 55 degrees right now but there went Gracie. She walked right in, bent her knees and was in up to her neck. There were a Dad and son fishing off the rocks at little bridge and they had their tackle box open and Grace goes, "hey can I touch your lures?" "Sure, be careful of the hooks.." "Hey can you cast in that direction, so I don't get hurt on your hooks?" Yeah, they finally just moved down the beach. Its amazing the balls on that kid. Days like today make me so proud of her.
Saturday, June 6, 2009
So that was then...
Two-thousand seven to be exact. Now it 2 years later, and I have gained 20 pounds and lost 2 ovaries. Life is alot different now. I take three different prescriptions. I don't like my job anymore. Things I thought would never happen have happened. I'm able to spend more time with my daughters than I used to. I've stopped missing someone I once thought I would spend the rest of my life with. My search for what it is I believe in spiritually has resulted in the discovery that I believe in people and science and not things I can't see.
It keeps going back to this episode of CSI in which Gil Grissom is sitting in a church pew talking with a priest about religious fanaticism. This is what Grissom said and it hit me, yes! That's how I feel:
"I believe in God, in science ... in Sunday supper. I don't believe in rules that tell me how I should live. Light bulb goes out, other people fix it, get a new one. Light bulb goes out for the Catholic he stands in the dark says, 'What did I do wrong?' That guilt's not in me anymore. ...How many crusades were fought in the name of God? How many people died because of someone's religion?"
I believe in a god if the word "god" is synonymous with the word "love." My god doesn't judge, doesn't punish or hate or condemn. I don't know if I'm an athiest, but you know what? I'm actually not uncomfortable being called one.
It keeps going back to this episode of CSI in which Gil Grissom is sitting in a church pew talking with a priest about religious fanaticism. This is what Grissom said and it hit me, yes! That's how I feel:
"I believe in God, in science ... in Sunday supper. I don't believe in rules that tell me how I should live. Light bulb goes out, other people fix it, get a new one. Light bulb goes out for the Catholic he stands in the dark says, 'What did I do wrong?' That guilt's not in me anymore. ...How many crusades were fought in the name of God? How many people died because of someone's religion?"
I believe in a god if the word "god" is synonymous with the word "love." My god doesn't judge, doesn't punish or hate or condemn. I don't know if I'm an athiest, but you know what? I'm actually not uncomfortable being called one.
Don't forget to read this starting at the bottom
I sit here on Monday the twenty-first of May, and yes, I do realize that I've lost a week here, in these emails-slash-journal entries. Last week was, what I consider, a big mess. The weekend, which was not the one which just passed, but the one before, was the weekend before what was Gaia's 14th birthday, which coincidentally, fell on the 14th. She had spent both days of the weekend with her best friend Oona Post, daughter of the island-famous Dr. Robert Post, Vineyard dentist and renowned (I'm serious) fly-fisherman. He's written books on the subject. Sadly, Oona's Dad died of leukemia when she was still a baby. Cancer really sucks.
But I digress. The plan was, that since it was Gaia's birthday anyway, I would take the day off from work and G would bag school and we'd spend the day together off-island. She'd get to see where I go everyday and do a little shopping. Gaia, however, is not a shopper. Yes, unlike her mother AND maternal grandmother, Gaia does NOT enjoy wandering around aimlessly in that florescent lighting, looking for that perfect garment to just jump off the rack. Go figure. Halfway through the day she was quite literally bored to tears. I'm afraid the whole day was anticlimactic for her, exhausting for her mom.
Tuesday started out bright and sunny, with wind gusts expected up to 50 miles per hour. Great. As predicted, I got a call from the Angel Flight pilot explaining that it was far too windy to fly today. Fortunately, my friends had my back, once again. Denise Alwardt, another kind person I work with, has a spare car, a sunny yellow Jeep Wrangler. She encouraged me last week to look into what the Steamship authority charges to keep a car in their Palmer Avenue lot for medical purposes. "Fifty bucks a month," said Mike, the manager over there." At around 90 dollars per round trip car reservation, this is a bargain, so I took the yellow Jeep on the new boat, Island Home, and drove route 28 to Hyannis. On the way back, I parked the jeep in the lot, paid the 50 bucks to Mike and took the shuttle to Wood's Hole to catch the ferry back home.
Not so fun having to do it again the next day.
Wednesday. The day looked lovely, but my British pilot called me in the morning and explained that (now think British accent), "I can cehtainly get you theh, howevah, thundehstorms are predicted for this ahfternoon, so I'd be unable to fly you home." Crap. I swore alot more this day, every time I'd hit a red light or was stuck behind someone making a left turn. How do people do this everyday?
Thursday. Clouds and sun, but no storms or fog or wind. Thank you God. I flew. I can't even remember who the pilot was who brought me to Hyannis. Ritchie Canastra brought me home.
Friday. The worst. It did everything but snow. Rain, wind, the works. Angel Flight had called me Thursday afternoon to tell me my pilot had canceled already, but they had good news and bad news. The good news was that they were trying to get me on a Cape Air flight. The bad news; no paying customers were booked on the flight from the Vineyard to Hyannis, and Cape Air won't fly without paying passengers on board. I prayed silently, on the front steps of the Mugar Cancer Center, for paying passengers. I was exhausted.
The Great Spirit must have decided I needed a mental health day, because sure enough, there were no airplanes leaving the rain-soaked ground that day. And I was determined. I was NOT driving. After explaining my predicament to the bored person at the other end of the phone line at Cape Cod Hospital, I happily stayed at work until 4:15.
Today is Monday. Today for the first time there was another passenger on board my flight. His name was Jeff and he was headed to Hyannis for a follow-up appointment as he had finished his radiation back in the fall. He has (had?) prostate cancer. He told me he won't know if it's really gone for about 2 years. We talked alot about how important it is to have a positive attitude, and I think it's true for everyone, in any given situation. Jonathan and Joel and I joke about it, reminding one another about " P.M.A" (positive mental attitude) but I believe that whenever something bad happens, or something that seems bad at the time, you have to remember that down the road, something can and will transpire from it that will make you a better person. From darkness comes light, I guess. There is always something to be learned from struggle.
Yes, there is. Which is why I guess I am constantly learning.
But I digress. The plan was, that since it was Gaia's birthday anyway, I would take the day off from work and G would bag school and we'd spend the day together off-island. She'd get to see where I go everyday and do a little shopping. Gaia, however, is not a shopper. Yes, unlike her mother AND maternal grandmother, Gaia does NOT enjoy wandering around aimlessly in that florescent lighting, looking for that perfect garment to just jump off the rack. Go figure. Halfway through the day she was quite literally bored to tears. I'm afraid the whole day was anticlimactic for her, exhausting for her mom.
Tuesday started out bright and sunny, with wind gusts expected up to 50 miles per hour. Great. As predicted, I got a call from the Angel Flight pilot explaining that it was far too windy to fly today. Fortunately, my friends had my back, once again. Denise Alwardt, another kind person I work with, has a spare car, a sunny yellow Jeep Wrangler. She encouraged me last week to look into what the Steamship authority charges to keep a car in their Palmer Avenue lot for medical purposes. "Fifty bucks a month," said Mike, the manager over there." At around 90 dollars per round trip car reservation, this is a bargain, so I took the yellow Jeep on the new boat, Island Home, and drove route 28 to Hyannis. On the way back, I parked the jeep in the lot, paid the 50 bucks to Mike and took the shuttle to Wood's Hole to catch the ferry back home.
Not so fun having to do it again the next day.
Wednesday. The day looked lovely, but my British pilot called me in the morning and explained that (now think British accent), "I can cehtainly get you theh, howevah, thundehstorms are predicted for this ahfternoon, so I'd be unable to fly you home." Crap. I swore alot more this day, every time I'd hit a red light or was stuck behind someone making a left turn. How do people do this everyday?
Thursday. Clouds and sun, but no storms or fog or wind. Thank you God. I flew. I can't even remember who the pilot was who brought me to Hyannis. Ritchie Canastra brought me home.
Friday. The worst. It did everything but snow. Rain, wind, the works. Angel Flight had called me Thursday afternoon to tell me my pilot had canceled already, but they had good news and bad news. The good news was that they were trying to get me on a Cape Air flight. The bad news; no paying customers were booked on the flight from the Vineyard to Hyannis, and Cape Air won't fly without paying passengers on board. I prayed silently, on the front steps of the Mugar Cancer Center, for paying passengers. I was exhausted.
The Great Spirit must have decided I needed a mental health day, because sure enough, there were no airplanes leaving the rain-soaked ground that day. And I was determined. I was NOT driving. After explaining my predicament to the bored person at the other end of the phone line at Cape Cod Hospital, I happily stayed at work until 4:15.
Today is Monday. Today for the first time there was another passenger on board my flight. His name was Jeff and he was headed to Hyannis for a follow-up appointment as he had finished his radiation back in the fall. He has (had?) prostate cancer. He told me he won't know if it's really gone for about 2 years. We talked alot about how important it is to have a positive attitude, and I think it's true for everyone, in any given situation. Jonathan and Joel and I joke about it, reminding one another about " P.M.A" (positive mental attitude) but I believe that whenever something bad happens, or something that seems bad at the time, you have to remember that down the road, something can and will transpire from it that will make you a better person. From darkness comes light, I guess. There is always something to be learned from struggle.
Yes, there is. Which is why I guess I am constantly learning.
Nope, this one is my favorite
I've learned some things over the past couple of weeks. I learned that no matter how well you think you know a person, know their strengths and their weaknesses, you don't know and can't predict how they will react to something unexpected, like say, hypothetically, cancer, for example. I've discovered that I really knew little about the people in my life I consider close to me. The people I would have expected to keep their distance came closer, some I expected to help me find a soft place to fall at the end of a long day, are keeping me at a very stiff arm's length. Before this became my reality, I don't know how I would have reacted, but now I know. Now I know that something as simple as a voicemail can change the outlook on your whole day. Someone touching your arm and saying, "How're you holding up?" That makes you want to hold up the world.
Looking back to last week's blur of activity, I sit here at the computer with my very caffeinated cup of coffee already feeling the effects of either the radiation or the traveling to Hyannis everyday or both. On Friday the 11th, I walked into Martha's Vineyard airport knowing my pilot's name was Richard Canastra. The name sounded familiar...not island familiar, but Fairhaven familiar. I watched a balding guy about my age, with sunglasses and a neatly trimmed beard walk toward General Aviation. He was wearing a Whaling City Cycles t-shirt over his shorts, and I knew then he was a homeboy. He put out his hand and said, "I'm Ritchie." Only a Fairhaven kid would still be calling himself "Ritchie." I asked him, "Whaling City, are you from New Bedford?" "Fairhaven originally, but yeah, I live in New Bedford." I knew it!
In the plane, which was on the bigger side, with four seats in back, I sat up front with Ritchie and put on my headphones which had Steely Dan playing quietly in the background. We chatted constantly all the way to Hyannis, and I learned that he graduated from Fairhaven High in 1979, the year after my brother George. "Of course I know George, he was NUTS back then!" He asked all about my older brother, how many kids he had, how old they were, if he was married. "Tell him mine are 3 and 18 months," he said like a man who was doomed.
The ride seemed to be over in minutes and at Griffin, Ritchie walked me to the building and he said something like, "So Chris, are you going to be okay?" My throat tightened a little and I said, "I don't know how much they tell you, the Angel Flight people." He answered, "They don't tell us anything." I took a deep breath in preparation for my long story short version. "I have breast cancer," I started, "but in a very early stage, and all 22 of my lymph nodes were negative, so I'm going to be fine." I am going to be fine. I don't know if I am reassuring other people with this sentence or reassuring myself.
Inside Griffin Avionics, Ritchie said he'd be sure to sign up for lots more of my flights and when I put out my hand for him to shake it, he grabbed it and pulled me into a big bear hug. As I walked outside to wait for the shuttle bus, I knew I could conquer the universe.
Yeah, this brings it all back. The person pushing me out was, of course, my ex-boyfriend, the ones protecting me were the Cristea boys. Who knew? Not me. I do now though.
Looking back to last week's blur of activity, I sit here at the computer with my very caffeinated cup of coffee already feeling the effects of either the radiation or the traveling to Hyannis everyday or both. On Friday the 11th, I walked into Martha's Vineyard airport knowing my pilot's name was Richard Canastra. The name sounded familiar...not island familiar, but Fairhaven familiar. I watched a balding guy about my age, with sunglasses and a neatly trimmed beard walk toward General Aviation. He was wearing a Whaling City Cycles t-shirt over his shorts, and I knew then he was a homeboy. He put out his hand and said, "I'm Ritchie." Only a Fairhaven kid would still be calling himself "Ritchie." I asked him, "Whaling City, are you from New Bedford?" "Fairhaven originally, but yeah, I live in New Bedford." I knew it!
In the plane, which was on the bigger side, with four seats in back, I sat up front with Ritchie and put on my headphones which had Steely Dan playing quietly in the background. We chatted constantly all the way to Hyannis, and I learned that he graduated from Fairhaven High in 1979, the year after my brother George. "Of course I know George, he was NUTS back then!" He asked all about my older brother, how many kids he had, how old they were, if he was married. "Tell him mine are 3 and 18 months," he said like a man who was doomed.
The ride seemed to be over in minutes and at Griffin, Ritchie walked me to the building and he said something like, "So Chris, are you going to be okay?" My throat tightened a little and I said, "I don't know how much they tell you, the Angel Flight people." He answered, "They don't tell us anything." I took a deep breath in preparation for my long story short version. "I have breast cancer," I started, "but in a very early stage, and all 22 of my lymph nodes were negative, so I'm going to be fine." I am going to be fine. I don't know if I am reassuring other people with this sentence or reassuring myself.
Inside Griffin Avionics, Ritchie said he'd be sure to sign up for lots more of my flights and when I put out my hand for him to shake it, he grabbed it and pulled me into a big bear hug. As I walked outside to wait for the shuttle bus, I knew I could conquer the universe.
Yeah, this brings it all back. The person pushing me out was, of course, my ex-boyfriend, the ones protecting me were the Cristea boys. Who knew? Not me. I do now though.
Okay this is my favorite...
As soon as I opened my eyes this morning, I looked out the window at the sky. A misty gray fog hung in the air and I felt a knot tighten in my stomach. Fog and thunderstorms were predicted today, and I knew that last night, so I put in a call to Anita, a sweet lady I worked with for 2 years at the little Upper Main branch. Anita keeps a car off island in the Palmer Avenue lot in Falmouth and this car is my plan B on days when flying is not an option.
She assured me that of course I could use her car, just swing by Upper Main to pick up the keys on the way to the boat. "It's on the left of the lot," she told me, "the only red one on that side. When you find it, just check underneath to make sure there isn't a puddle of oil on the ground. It has a rusty oil pan, but Todd's getting it fixed in a couple of weeks. We drove it a couple weeks ago though, and it was fine." Ugh, so much for plan B. I love Anita, she doesn't have much, but she'd give you the shirt off your back if you needed it. On to plan C. I didn't know what that was yet, which is why I had that knot in my stomach on Thursday morning.
I went to work expecting a call from Angel Flight or the pilot, who's name is Bob today, and when none came by 10 am I called them. Laura told me she would check with Bob and have him call me, and he did about 5 minutes later. "It's clearing up," he assured me, "but rain is expected sometime this afternoon. I have a patient from Nantucket who HAS to be in Boston by 1 o'clock today, so if it's alright, I'll pick you up early, around noontime if that's okay." Of course it was.
Bob is young, I'm guessing in his early 30's with heat-miser fire-red hair and beard. He's chatty, and friendly, and his plane is minuscule. I'm sitting up front today, and he hops in and hands me the headphones so we can talk all the way to Hyannis. I already know at this point that he's married and has a couple of kids who come with him sometimes if it's summer or they have school vacation.
It's cloudy, but the fog has lifted somewhat and there is some blue in the sky. The ride is surprisingly smooth, and Bob explains that it's the clouds that keep the ride smooth because they hold down the heat from the ground that causes the bumps. Huh. We got to the airport in about 15 minutes and I'm early, about 2 hours early. I thank Bob and say goodbye, because the shuttle is waiting for me outside.
When I get to Mugar, I figured I'd see if I could get in early today, and they tell me to go ahead and put a gown on and have a seat, they know I'm here. I picked up People magazine and about 40 minutes later, after doing the entire ridiculously easy crossword puzzle, finally my name was called.
After, I stepped outside to an even clearer sky than this morning, and was starving,and since it was still early, I figured I'd have time to grab a sandwich before I took the shuttle back to Griffin.
( I realize this is getting boring. Be patient, it gets better)
I got back to Griffin at about 3 o'clock and got a phone call from Laura at Angel Flight. Apparently Joe Marino, the pilot scheduled to bring me back this afternoon is having plane trouble, but Bob has volunteered to bring you home. The bad news is, he can't get there until 4:30. I looked up at the sky. The clouds were getting bigger and a lot closer together. I read two entire issues of People magazine (why is that magazine ALWAYS in waiting rooms?) and at around 4:20 I watched Bob's little plane land. He apologized for the time and for needing to refuel, I was just thankful that I'd be able to get home. At around 5pm we finally got in the plane, and I watched about 4 planes take off and quickly disappear into what now had turned back into fog. I was nervous, but Bob reassured me that when you're from New England you get used to flying in these conditions. With the headphones on I could hear air traffic control giving Bob directions. "Seven seven Papa maintain altitude and take a left." Take a left? What kind of radio speak was that? We were above the clouds and fog, and I had to grab my sunglasses out of my bag, and where the Vineyard should have been, was just fluffy, white cotton. Air traffic control was telling Bob to circle around the Vineyard, kind of taking the long way home. I think what was going on was that they were waiting for an opening in the haze. Finally we were approaching the runway, and Bob started to count down the altitude because we were descending, and IN the fog, and NOTHING was visible. Nothing. I kept thinking, we're going to hit a house, or another plane up here. I shut my eyes and took deep breaths and tried to pretend I was on a bus, going downhill, perfectly safe. suddenly, we were going uphill again and I looked at Bob and he was shaking his head saying, "Well, Chris, no runway." What? He must have seen my confusion because he quickly added, "Where I should have seen the runway it was fogged in, so I'm going to try again. But you need to think about what you want to do if I can't land today. We can go back to Hyannis if you want. But don't worry, okay, we have 5 and a half hours of fuel" Okay, if I go to Hyannis, I can get a hotel room and spend the night, and just hang out until my appointment tomorrow. That would mean missing more work time, and wearing dirty clothes. I could go to New Bedford and stay at Aunty Lolly's. Is she even home? Do I have her phone number? How about Falmouth? Is there even an airport in Falmouth? "Hey Bob, how about Falmouth?" "I can get you to Falmouth," he answered. That answers that question.
Again we started descent into the fog. This time Bob said to me, "Do me a favor and keep looking ahead and tell me if you see runway lights." "Sure, Bob, but if I puke in your lap, you have no one to blame but yourself." He smiled and shook his head. I was looking, not seeing anything but grayish-white all around. He was again counting down altitude, I was looking, not seeing, and still looking, and my stomach was getting closer and closer to my throat, and I finally leaned back in my seat and started talking, in my head, to my mother. "Mum, if you can hear me now, I need some help here. Is there anyone up there who could arrange to land this thing, just to make a little hole in the fog, just for half a minute so I can get home?" I could feel tears welling up in my eyes. I opened them up to see just the gray-white, but seconds later, the fog opened up and the runway was directly in front of us. Thanks Mom.
Bob was exhilarated. I was exhausted. He was chatting excitedly, he must have been proud of himself, he should be. I heard him say, "...and a pocket opened up at EXACTLY the right time, it was incredible."
I thanked Bob for keeping me alive and walked across the parking lot to my car, praying, thanking God, and Mom.
Ugh, that day was incredible! I remember having to sit in my car for about 10 minutes waiting for my heart to stop pounding in my ears. I have to admit, I had a little crush on Bob after that day, like one of those super-hero crushes, like after you watch the Spiderman movies and you wish for a minute that you were Mary Jane Watson.
She assured me that of course I could use her car, just swing by Upper Main to pick up the keys on the way to the boat. "It's on the left of the lot," she told me, "the only red one on that side. When you find it, just check underneath to make sure there isn't a puddle of oil on the ground. It has a rusty oil pan, but Todd's getting it fixed in a couple of weeks. We drove it a couple weeks ago though, and it was fine." Ugh, so much for plan B. I love Anita, she doesn't have much, but she'd give you the shirt off your back if you needed it. On to plan C. I didn't know what that was yet, which is why I had that knot in my stomach on Thursday morning.
I went to work expecting a call from Angel Flight or the pilot, who's name is Bob today, and when none came by 10 am I called them. Laura told me she would check with Bob and have him call me, and he did about 5 minutes later. "It's clearing up," he assured me, "but rain is expected sometime this afternoon. I have a patient from Nantucket who HAS to be in Boston by 1 o'clock today, so if it's alright, I'll pick you up early, around noontime if that's okay." Of course it was.
Bob is young, I'm guessing in his early 30's with heat-miser fire-red hair and beard. He's chatty, and friendly, and his plane is minuscule. I'm sitting up front today, and he hops in and hands me the headphones so we can talk all the way to Hyannis. I already know at this point that he's married and has a couple of kids who come with him sometimes if it's summer or they have school vacation.
It's cloudy, but the fog has lifted somewhat and there is some blue in the sky. The ride is surprisingly smooth, and Bob explains that it's the clouds that keep the ride smooth because they hold down the heat from the ground that causes the bumps. Huh. We got to the airport in about 15 minutes and I'm early, about 2 hours early. I thank Bob and say goodbye, because the shuttle is waiting for me outside.
When I get to Mugar, I figured I'd see if I could get in early today, and they tell me to go ahead and put a gown on and have a seat, they know I'm here. I picked up People magazine and about 40 minutes later, after doing the entire ridiculously easy crossword puzzle, finally my name was called.
After, I stepped outside to an even clearer sky than this morning, and was starving,and since it was still early, I figured I'd have time to grab a sandwich before I took the shuttle back to Griffin.
( I realize this is getting boring. Be patient, it gets better)
I got back to Griffin at about 3 o'clock and got a phone call from Laura at Angel Flight. Apparently Joe Marino, the pilot scheduled to bring me back this afternoon is having plane trouble, but Bob has volunteered to bring you home. The bad news is, he can't get there until 4:30. I looked up at the sky. The clouds were getting bigger and a lot closer together. I read two entire issues of People magazine (why is that magazine ALWAYS in waiting rooms?) and at around 4:20 I watched Bob's little plane land. He apologized for the time and for needing to refuel, I was just thankful that I'd be able to get home. At around 5pm we finally got in the plane, and I watched about 4 planes take off and quickly disappear into what now had turned back into fog. I was nervous, but Bob reassured me that when you're from New England you get used to flying in these conditions. With the headphones on I could hear air traffic control giving Bob directions. "Seven seven Papa maintain altitude and take a left." Take a left? What kind of radio speak was that? We were above the clouds and fog, and I had to grab my sunglasses out of my bag, and where the Vineyard should have been, was just fluffy, white cotton. Air traffic control was telling Bob to circle around the Vineyard, kind of taking the long way home. I think what was going on was that they were waiting for an opening in the haze. Finally we were approaching the runway, and Bob started to count down the altitude because we were descending, and IN the fog, and NOTHING was visible. Nothing. I kept thinking, we're going to hit a house, or another plane up here. I shut my eyes and took deep breaths and tried to pretend I was on a bus, going downhill, perfectly safe. suddenly, we were going uphill again and I looked at Bob and he was shaking his head saying, "Well, Chris, no runway." What? He must have seen my confusion because he quickly added, "Where I should have seen the runway it was fogged in, so I'm going to try again. But you need to think about what you want to do if I can't land today. We can go back to Hyannis if you want. But don't worry, okay, we have 5 and a half hours of fuel" Okay, if I go to Hyannis, I can get a hotel room and spend the night, and just hang out until my appointment tomorrow. That would mean missing more work time, and wearing dirty clothes. I could go to New Bedford and stay at Aunty Lolly's. Is she even home? Do I have her phone number? How about Falmouth? Is there even an airport in Falmouth? "Hey Bob, how about Falmouth?" "I can get you to Falmouth," he answered. That answers that question.
Again we started descent into the fog. This time Bob said to me, "Do me a favor and keep looking ahead and tell me if you see runway lights." "Sure, Bob, but if I puke in your lap, you have no one to blame but yourself." He smiled and shook his head. I was looking, not seeing anything but grayish-white all around. He was again counting down altitude, I was looking, not seeing, and still looking, and my stomach was getting closer and closer to my throat, and I finally leaned back in my seat and started talking, in my head, to my mother. "Mum, if you can hear me now, I need some help here. Is there anyone up there who could arrange to land this thing, just to make a little hole in the fog, just for half a minute so I can get home?" I could feel tears welling up in my eyes. I opened them up to see just the gray-white, but seconds later, the fog opened up and the runway was directly in front of us. Thanks Mom.
Bob was exhilarated. I was exhausted. He was chatting excitedly, he must have been proud of himself, he should be. I heard him say, "...and a pocket opened up at EXACTLY the right time, it was incredible."
I thanked Bob for keeping me alive and walked across the parking lot to my car, praying, thanking God, and Mom.
Ugh, that day was incredible! I remember having to sit in my car for about 10 minutes waiting for my heart to stop pounding in my ears. I have to admit, I had a little crush on Bob after that day, like one of those super-hero crushes, like after you watch the Spiderman movies and you wish for a minute that you were Mary Jane Watson.
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