I’m writing this somewhere over the Atlantic as I cross the pond for the first time. I hope there will be more crossings throughout my lifetime to visit more countries and, and I want those visits to always be w/ loved ones. I know Ron and I are off on a great adventure, yet I miss Doug and the girls very much already, and I’ve only been apart from them for 27 hours.
I left my car at Dad’s yesterday, and saying goodbye to him was equally difficult, yes, b/c I’ll miss him a lot too, but mostly b/c he had this look of fear that he’d never see me again. I pray to God that’s not true. Thinking about all this gives me the same tightness in my throat and the same burning in my eyes as I do when I think about never seeing Mom again. I know I’ll see my father, children, and husband again but being suspended over an ocean in a tin can for nine hours can cause the mind to wax sentimental.
So here’s what’s been happening so far. Ron and I met at Dad’s yesterday around 3:30. We went out to the cemetery so I could put the solar light by Mom’s grave and so I could leave my car at Dad’s allowing Ron and me to stay at a friend’s house who lives closer to the airport. Dad thought the light would need a longer stick to stick out the ground to catch the sun so he went out to his shop, selected the proper size dowel, and sharpened one end w/ one of his tools. It turned out that the piece that came w/ the light worked fine, but it amazes me how Dad can think something, see it in his mind, and then make it happen even when it doesn’t need to happen. All this w/ a sixth grade education. British Petroleum could learn a lot from Dad’s problem-solving skills!
It’s always a delight seeing Phil, and it was a delightful way to start our journey by seeing him as well as meeting new friends. These new friends Bruce and Zobie were incredibly generous giving Ron and me each $100 as extra mad money for our trip. The generosity of people simply amazes me. After a tall gin and tonic and stimulating conversation, I slept for about four hours before being roused by my big brother that it was time to leave for the airport. All our airport experiences were incredibly smooth as an unfortunate result of Ron’s fibromyalgia. Since he always buys a disability airline ticket, he has a wheelchair waiting for him at every terminal. This proved especially helpful when we arrived in London Heathrow. Not only did the valet pushing Ron’s wheelchair get us to where we needed to go, he provided helpful transportation information, and most importantly, zipped us right through customs. I’m sure the other people entering the UK, who were waiting in a zig zag line that probably stretched three city blocks, were looking at us w/ both envy and anger.
Our cab driver was an East Ender so I got a chance to practice my Cockney accent. It’s a little confusing here b/c we actually left the arrival side of the airport and took a taxi to the departure side in another terminal. If we’d arrived earlier in the day, we could’ve taken a shuttle b/w terminals, but since it was after 23:00, we opted for the taxi. The taxi driver wasn’t much impressed w/ my accent, but the valet at the Yotel within Heathrow thought I did a decent job when I said, “Me bruvva’s in the loo so I’m givin’ him some pri-vuh-cee.” I must give Ron koodoos for finding out about the Yotel. It allowed us to shower and catch a few hours of sleep for before proceeding on the next leg of our journey, which I’ll write about tomorrow.
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