The other day, I was talking to my sister-in-law and she said, "Your parents are special people. They are so giving and forgiving and really kind." That is the truth. I feel really lucky. They are exceptional. And, that is one of the reasons I was so stoked to be able to book tickets on the same flight with them and head to Indiana for a family reunion last month.
They shuttled Katie Jane and me to the airport early on a Wednesday morning. We didn't get seats together on the airplane, but, thanks to accommodating passengers, we were able to sit together for most of our flights.
Here's a story about that:
Flying from Denver to Indianapolis, my dad was assigned to sit in a seat about twenty rows ahead of my mom and me. When we asked the lady in the seat next to me to trade with him, we discovered that my dad's seat was right next to her husband. What are the chances of that?
We arrived in Indianapolis Wednesday afternoon and met my Pappa and my mom's sister, Linda, at the airport. My mom's brother, Roger, collected our group at the curb in a sweet, plush, comfortable van that was our ride for the rest of the week.
Man, I loved being chauffeured around in that van. I could read, take naps, laugh at the bedlam happening in the backseat or admire the scenery as it passed by the giant window at my side. And, when I started to look tired it was like, "Here Amy, how about a pillow?" Or, if I looked thirsty then it was, "Here's an icy cooler, how about a cold drink." This trip was all about living in the lap o luxury.
We drove from Indianapolis to Washington, Indiana (about 90 minutes south) to the reunion headquarters - my Uncle Roger and Aunt Terry's lovely home. Did I mention that my Aunt Terry sent me a birthday card every year when I was growing up? She did. And, lots of times there was a little gift too. So sweet. And, my Uncle Roger is still just as funny as I remember. He's a funny, funny guy.
After settling in and having the grand tour of the home (my favorite part was the covered porch stretching along the length of the front of the house lined with chairs) the first of a flurry of fine meals was laid out before us. Tender BBQ pork, fresh corn on the cob, homemade coleslaw, potato salad, fruit salad, pasta salad, my Mamma's famous pecan pie (made by my Aunt Terry since my dear Mamma passed away nearly twelve years ago), and homemade citrus cake with thick icing. Wow, was it delicious. We ate and talked and talked and ate until late into the night.
At dusk, my cousin, Tara, brought in a jar of lightening bugs. Seeing that jar took me right back to my childhood when we use to visit my Mamma and Pappa in Illinois every other summer and collect those magical flying bugs by trapping them in jars.
I remember one summer in particular, I was probably about seven, when we filled a jar half full of those critters. That was a bad idea and by morning they were mostly dead. But, I can see them in that jar on my Mamma's kitchen counter just like it was yesterday. Clear as anything, I can see my brothers and my sister and I sleeping in the front room of that little house, listening to the train whistle blowing by all night long. By day we would ride bikes to the train tracks and smash pennies. I can see it and hear it. I can smell it too. It was the same smell in my Aunt and Uncle's Indiana garage -- hot wood in humidity.
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