I leave tomorrow at 10:30 a.m. for Chicago. I land there (hopefully) at 4:30 and then run to the other side of the American terminal and PRAY I make my connection at 5:40. It sounded like plenty of time when I booked the ticket, but now that I’ve been watching that flight the last few days I realize it frequently is quite late. And that would be the last connection to Traverse City that night. So I might be staying in Chicago tomorrow. Can’t say I’d hate that. Still I’m not made of money so making that connector would be a really good thing.

Neko has helped me figure out what to wear in a place that actually has Winter. And last night I ransacked my closet to come up with outfits that are warm, layerable, and don’t take up much room in a carryon. It’s the whole shoe thing that is still perplexing me. But whatever. I’m going to be inside the whole time anyways.

My mom says that my grandma is doing OK. She sleeps a lot and is keeping food down again. But that’s about all she’s saying which leads me to think that I’m in for a big shock when I see Grandma. She was always a very sturdy woman (obviously that’s where I get it from) part strong strapping Basque and the other hearty French fur trappers. It’s hard to imagine this strong, vibrant, funny, outgoing woman reduced to a hospital bed and an IV drip.

From the time I was born until I was about 12 I spent my summers in Michigan. Usually split between Grandma’s and then the Lodge (our family house on Grand Island – which my aunt has control over and I might never see again.) I remember driving all over the Upper Peninsula with Grandma and Grandpa. They loved to just go places in their Beige Oldsmobile and we’d have lots of picnics on beaches and canoe trips down rivers. She also liked to work and had a nice part time job at a lady’s clothing store.

But she also had a very hard life. My Grandpa, for lack of a better way of putting it, was not a nice man. He put her down, he deprived her, and I think she went through that entire marriage without knowing if she was loved – and she certainly wasn’t getting any.
After he passed away in ’99 she mourned for a while, then found a boyfriend, and had SEX! Unfortunately her boyfriend was 92 so it wasn’t much of a long term relationship.

Still, through everything she’s had a wonderful vibrant attitude about life, never wallowing in self-pity, never regretful. And when I think about how I handle the ups and downs in my life I realize I’m not doing it with nearly the aplomb that she has and I’ve got to learn from her. That’s the thing; her legacy to me is that I want to try to live with her positive, happy, wonderful attitude. I don’t know how I’m going to do it because I’ve always been one to fall heavy into the melancholy, but I’ve got to learn.

I anticipate a hard few days as much as a joyful few days.