Just as there were things about my childhood home that I found to be very different, there were also many things the same. The smell of my Daddy’s records, the way that music seemed to make cleaning the dishes after dinner not as tedious a task, and the way that no matter what -I belong somewhere. The time that I spent there with my mom, sister and brother were more repairing then I had ever imagined. I have struggled at many points in my life with knowing where I was supposed to be. Being ensconced in the familiar made it all that more interesting of a time to process really. I was able to look through old photos, and sit at the dining room table where I ate every dinner growing up. I admittedly had to work on math homework at that same table, and that brought back some not so pleasant memories.
As the days passed, my Mom started to feel better little by little. I went from sleeping in the bed with her to make sure she was okay during the night, to sleeping in my old room upstairs. I assured her that I would hear her if she shouted for me, but put her tablet on the pillow next to her just in case, and crept down the stairs a few times to make sure she was resting. Soon enough, it was time for me to leave her to her own devices. I made sure to grocery shop and do the laundry and what not before I took off to spend the night with my brother, and then fly out of Pennsylvania the following day.
So what happens when a “super storm” hits the coast and all flights get delayed and then cancelled? I get stuck in PA..that’s what. I was supposed to leave Philly at noon, and was delayed, and then delayed again..and just when the people on my flight were starting to get even more restless than they already were..we boarded and were on the runway. In movies, this is where people start to cheer and clap and call loved ones to tell them they are on their way home. Well my life isn’t exactly a movie and that ain’t what happened. Nope. We were on the runway and the flight was cancelled. All the airline could say was “here’s a free water, go sit down”. Unlike the people in the airport madness with me, I did not start yelling at people and throwing little fits of rage at the other passengers. I called my brother and asked him to come pick my ass up, and he was thankfully there in a flash. I got a cheese steak and a case of beer to handle the small crises, and went home with my brother and nephew.
The storm had all flights cancelled that day, and I was scheduled for a new one the next day. On the way to the airport, that flight too was cancelled. No flights for the following day were even available. Instead of a Wednesday, I wasn’t leaving until Saturday. I spent long enough at my brother’s place with him and my 13 year old nephew to feel that it too, was a little like a home to me at that point. We had fun dinners and I was able to make a connection with my nephew that I never had before, and also have plenty of hours to talk with my brother about everything under the sun.
Since the weekend was now upon us, and I was still in Pennsylvania, my brother and I went back to our mother’s house. We did some grocery shopping for her again and to made sure that she was alright before I again tried to make my way back to Florida. It was a quick visit, but long enough for me to get in some extra time with the woman who I now blame for me wanting to keep up with Dancing with the Stars! We also had some pizza from the place that we always ordered from when we were kids, and it tasted just as good as I remembered, even if we had been ordering from them so long that they had my Daddy’s name on file for the address. Some things still take the wind right out of me. Sometimes if feels like it hasn’t been nine minutes let alone nine years since the house I called home was filled with him laughing.
After a few more goodbyes, since the first time was really just a drill, I was yet again packed up and headed to the airport. You never really know the way you feel about a place until you leave it. I have in other posts talked about goodbyes getting harder over the years, and I realized that when I am the one leaving, it doesn’t seem as difficult to me.
That’s all for part two folks. Be sure to check out the final piece of the trilogy up next, and see just where my search for home takes me next.
Diaries of Suzy Doozer 
Leave a comment