It is the very last hour of my visit to my mother in California, and I am wrestling with the leaving moments. It could be a while before I can get back for another visit, and I need to somehow soak up too many details of my Mom and her home in the short time I have left.
The front porch roses come into vivid focus, and the view from her back yard of the valley below just got intense and vibrant. The last cool morning breezes in my face, the last breakfast with Mom before the airport van comes. I drink in the cute way my mother smiles in greeting and hardly taste breakfast as I wonder if I have everything in my suitcase. How do I say goodbye?
That kitchen clock is ticking time away in great clumps and I hug my mother a lot as time for the van to come arrives. Okay, I cannot stretch the moment any longer, and I must go out the front door with a tearful last hug, my suitcases and sweet memories.
Beginnings and endings, will I see my mother again? Her health uncertainty looms large, but as the van drove toward the airport in Los Angeles, I gave her to the Lord’s hands and timing. None of us know about our tomorrow. Part of my heart I leave behind in California with the many relatives I have here, and I look ahead to my homecoming.
My plane can’t move fast enough back across the country, flying up at 32,000 feet with a fine tail wind. We overshadow states with our jet wings, and time jumps forward three hours. Funny that we people can fiddle with time to suit our summers, but can’t stop the next minute from coming.
In a few minutes we will touch down on the smaller airport of Burlington, Vermont. Even at night I get excited as I look out my window. Suddenly, my heart is home, and I am glad. It is midnight and there are only a few people left to help us before they close the airport for the night. I cast my eyes around for my sweet husband, who drove an hour and a half to get me, and WOW! An amazing welcome awaits me. Here he comes toward me with hugs and kisses and a huge bouquet of sunflowers. Joy.