I have been here. I did the laundry, we made cookies, there’s leftover cucumber salad, along with the chicken marinating in the fridge. There’s gas in the car, your Amex is in the center console, and your keys are on the dresser. I had been here, but I was not there anymore.
In the Mary Poppins revolving door of general aviation life, I needed to be at South Valley Regional Airport to meet Richard and fly to Idaho Falls for our daughter-in-law’s graduation. At the same time, our daughter Sharlan and her husband Michael were landing in Salt Lake City from a trip to Portugal. I had been watching our grandkids for the last few days of their trip. As I hopped into an Uber, I looked back and reviewed the flurry of messages with the final details of handing things off.
It struck me: bits and pieces of me were all over the house. The dryer may have still been going, like a warm hug from a distant place, but I was gone. It got me thinking about the last time I felt this way. It was after Richard’s mom passed away. His older sister Mara was staying with his dad. She would walk out to the freezer in the garage and come back with food his mom had previously made and frozen for dinner. She called it “Freezer Surprise.” When we got there, I recall eating Mary’s delicious granola bars out of the freezer. She was still here but not there…
So many in our lives have loved us, fought for us, created paths for us—even moved across an ocean to America. In many ways, I see the branches of our family tree in the leaves that fall from it. I see their love and sacrifice for us in the beautiful reflection we see in our grandchildren’s eyes. So grateful for the many who we honor this Memorial Day weekend. We treasure the freedom they have blessed us with.
