Abraham,
Thursday was a difficult day. Your Mom and I turned the house inside out, as we made ready for a late night departure. You knew things were awry and missed your routines and bedtime. At ten we left for the airport, already exhausted, the journey not yet begun.
Too many bags, and yet not even half of the stuff we would need. I toured the new job site today and even in my long johns I was frozen. When I checked the Asheville weather last week it was 77 and sunny. Today it was 35 and rainy and snowy with bouts of hail. I wouldn't trade it for fluorescent lights, but I would have liked five more layers.
Long lines in the Portland airport, but you seemed to be sensing the adventure. You just looked around and took it all in, curious about the glowy signs advertising golf and business.
You didn't cry once, or even seem bothered by the strange air and movement of flying. I admire you, your calmness, your curiosity, your sweet wonder.
Chicago's O'Hare airport, 5:00 a.m.
You slept soundly on both legs of the flight, pressed close to your mother's breast. You have legions of fans amongst the flight attendants of United Airlines.
We arrived to Charlotte in the morning and spent most of the day in bed. It was warm and sunny and dinner at the mall's food court seemed like a luxury to me.
Charlotte, one very long day later.
We are now tucked away in the attic apartment of a good friend in Asheville. It's a cozy place, littered with the contents of our bags and Betty's plants and quilts. It feels good to be here. I cannot spend enough time in bed, though there are too many things to do.
You are in your element here. You have been dog-kissed and tasted home-made apple sauce. You've watched college hoops on TV and have ridden on real rocking chairs.
I would say welcome home, but it becomes clearer and clearer to me everyday, that wherever we are together as a family, we are home. So I guess I can say it after all, welcome home.
You sleep now, on the other side of a make-do flannel wall. I will join you soon. We will all be home in a mountain of comforters and blankets.
Pa-