niel's pda
I made it to the airport in record time. I think my excitement added some more lead to my already heavy foot. Of course the flight was delayed, so I had to wait... and wait... and wait. Then I got a call from Niel, who was still back in the customs area with the gang.
Niel: "Do you know what the plan is for these kids' flights?"
Me: "Yeah, the only flight we could get was out of LaGuardia... [blah blah blah, detailed explanation inserted here, yadda yadda yadda]."
Niel: "So, do I need to take them there? I don't think I'll get back in time for my flight."
Me: "All you need to do is come through customs and baggage claim, and then you'll see my face."
Niel: "You're here?" (I could hear him smiling.)
An hour later, I finally got to see Shaggy McShagster, I mean, my unshaven and unruly-haired yet still adorably hot husband. He approached me with a trail of teenyboppers following him.
Me: "Hey handsome! Should we tell the kids to avert their eyes?"
Niel: "No, let 'em look!" he said as he grabbed me and kissed me.
My husband rocks.
d-day
I'm pretty excited right now. As I type, Niel's on a flight to America. I'm sure he's cramped up in his tiny seat, jamming his knees into the back of the poor soul sitting in front of him. I imagine he's enjoyed (?!) at least one Pepto-necessitating airplane meal and climbed over his neighbor at least once to use the way-too-small bathroom. I bet he's watched a movie or two, slept a bit, and sorted out 1/4 of the world's problems in his brain (he's just amazing that way). He's most likely looking at his watch right about now, counting down the hours till he exits that flying tube of steel. Did I mention that the flight from Johannesburg to New York is 17 hours long? It is.
But that's not why I'm excited.
I'm smiling so big my eyes close because I'm going to surprise Niel when he lands in New York tomorrow morning. He's catching a flight out to Orlando just a few hours later, but I'll get to steal a quick kiss (maybe a not-so-quick kiss) and a long hug (that's the best part right there...).
There's a long story behind the "why", but the short of it is that there are 7 Thrive Trippers on the flight with Niel. Because they took off from South Africa almost 3 hours late, the kids will miss their domestic connections. They've been rebooked on later flights out of a different airport. So I'm going to meet their flight, make out with my husband, shuttle 7 kids I've never met before across the city to LaGuardia ("Hi, I'm Alece! What's your names?"), get them checked in and through security, catch a cab back to JFK, and then drive back to Long Island.
And all this starts with my alarm going off at 6 AM.
Seeing Niel makes that totally worth it. And if you knew how much of a morning person I am not, you'd know what a big deal that is for me.
The bestest part? Since all of this was arranged after Niel boarded the flight 7 hours ago, he has no idea about the excitement that is going to unfold at 9:00 tomorrow morning.
I wanna bring Niel some tangible love. Considering I can only bring things I can find around my house, what do you propose I bring for him?
the ski-man
While decorating their house for Christmas one year, Grandpa curiously eyed a little ski-man figurine. It didn’t match any of the other decorations and we have no idea where it came from. Grandpa walked around the living room, trying to find the best spot for this interesting little piece. He wandered into the kitchen, absently flipping the ski-man over in his hand. His eyes scoured the room and finally settled on the perfect spot.
He pulled a chair out from under the table and moved it over to the door. Climbing up on the chair, Grandpa reached up and placed the ski-man on the edge of the door frame. Quite pleased with himself, he showed Grandma his shining moment of holiday decorating.
After Christmas came and went and the New Year was adequately rung in with Dick Clark, the decorations got boxed up and stored away---well, everything but the ski-man. He stayed right where he was, perched high in the kitchen---where everything happens in an Italian home.
From his high and lofty seat, the ski-man saw my dad and uncle grow up, watched my brothers and I make forts, peered down on a sad family when Grandpa passed away. He saw my dad move back in when my parents separated, witnessed the unceasing prayers of my Grandma, and looked down on loud family gatherings around an overly-full table.
Saturated with the history of our family, the ski-man moved with Grandma down to Florida fifteen years ago. He found himself atop a new door, in a new place, but he remained a constant in our ever-changing lives.
When Gram moved in with my uncle five years ago, the ski-man moved with her but didn’t get elevated to his usual position. Maybe no one offered to climb up and do it; maybe she didn’t want to ask someone for help. Maybe she felt he’d lived a long and full life and didn’t need to be burdened with the job of “family overseer” anymore. I don’t know the reason, but the ski-man was never seen again.
Moments after my Gram passed away, my Dad got Niel on the phone. I walked back into Gram’s bedroom to talk to him. As I talked and cried, I paced around her room, looking at pictures and familiar mementos. I dug through the little bowls and boxes on her dresser, finding treasures and buttons and rosaries. In a small, open basket made of popsicle sticks lay the ski-man. I gasped and scooped him up.
I flipped him around in my hand the whole time I talked on the phone, finding a strange sense of comfort in his presence.
My family came into Gram’s bedroom to check on me. As I got off the phone, I opened my hand and showed them my discovery. Every eye filled with tears as we passed the ski-man around. We decided my older brother should have him. So he flew back to New York with us.
I’m sure you can guess where he put him.
like gram
Ways I am like my Grandma:
- She was short.
- People always noticed her smile.
- She could eat a surprising amount.
- She was immensely sentimental.
- She'd do anything for those she loved.
- She didn't usually have a lot to say.
- She remembered people's birthdays.
- She disliked playing games she knew she'd lose.
- She was a giver.
- She rather enjoyed sitting indoors on a sunny day.
Ways I want to be more like my Grandma:
- She consistently displayed the fruit of the Spirit.
- She made the best pot of sauce and meatballs.
- She didn't care about material things---at all.
- She had the patience of a saint.
- She prayed faithfully.
- She persevered with joy through every trial.
- She wasn't afraid to let people see her cry.
- She loved tirelessly, even when it hurt.
- She remembered everything.
- She rarely spoke negatively about anyone.
- She drank a glass of red wine every night with dinner.