Last weekend we went to Pittsburgh for twenty four hours. It might not have been so tight if it weren't for an event Zack wanted to go to on Friday, and Hope's anticipated arrival from France on Sunday afternoon. But we were eager to see our daughter Mercy in a comedy skit and so made the trip. I drove both ways, giving John the time to relax. Are you impressed? Don't bother. It was my way of repaying him for picking up our youngest daughter from JFK Sunday night. I took the shifts in broad daylight on straight roads in clear weather. He took the wheel in the cities, at night, in the rain, with crazy traffic. 

 

As it happened, Hope's flight was cancelled, and picking Aurelle up in New York City a little before midnight was not a simple grab and go. Her phone was having international reentry issues, and refused to send texts, or calls, or What's App messages while the plane waited on the tarmac for ninety minutes. My imagination flew to worst case scenarios, and I leaked as much to our family on the hang out chat. I was hesitant to wake up people on different sides of the country but six of them rose to my rescue with a host of perfectly plausible reasons why Aurelle was not answering. John was circling the terminal trying not to text, and our adult kids in Boston, Philly, Portland, LA and Paris weighed in. They reminded me of scenarios with lost luggage, customs delays, and long lines, trying to hold my maternal panic at bay. Then in a break through moment Hope was able to text Aurelle to tell her to join our chat. She was alive!

 

That was when the action went up a notch, as we tried to connect the two people who were actually at the same airport. In a flurry of advice and gladness, Aurelle asked which of our cars to look for. I ran downstairs to check which vehicle was missing, and when I got back on my oldest son had already typed the name. 

 

"Kiwi." The blue one. I already knew he was resourceful, but how the heck did he know which car it was??? It turns out that when Hope texted (from France), which Lukas read (in California) he could tell it on the phone to John (in NYC) so that his dad could keep both hands on the wheel and not die. It was John who provided the answer. 

 

I laughed out loud. 

 

It was an enormous relief when they pulled into the driveway sometime after three, and just a few minutes after Hope texted that she was boarding her plane to Madrid. Having been rerouted from her non stop flight the day before, she was headed to the same airport Aurelle had just left. Just to keep things interesting that flight was eventually cancelled for still more creative reasons, and Hope was shuttled with other displaced persons to a hotel until they could try again the next morning. 

 

On her third day of waking before the sun Hope and her clutch of fellow travelers made it back to the airport for a lucky third attempt at taking off. This one stuck. She arrived forty eight hours after she first expected to. 

 

Home is sweeter to have them in it again.