Together

On yet another plane, on yet another day of mom life, I snuck into the first class section to use the bathroom. It was easier than usual because I was one of five or six remaining adults on the plane - no elitist in sight to right my wrongs. As I crept forward, I signaled to Peter back in row 23 that he needed to keep an eye on Margaret and Mary; they were sound asleep and I didn't want them to roll from slumber to icky airplane floor wakefulness. He moved forward and stood halfway between his row, where Bobby was also sleeping, and mine.


When I returned, we reassessed our strategy in the middle of the aisle, as yet another passenger squeezed past us to deplane in hopes of a better night sleep in a hotel in Indianapolis.



We were on the way back from Pittsburgh, where we celebrated Father's Day with my family. Typically, it's the easiest flight - up, down, 55 minutes, 3 kiddo cat naps, 1 bag of pretzels, 0 bathroom breaks. Home.




This time, not so easy. We encountered weather outside of Chicago, circled, and then were diverted to Indianapolis where we sat and sat and sat without an indication that we would make it home that evening. I ate Oreos for dinner; gratis first class snacks from the flight attendant who found pity on us. Somehow they didn't taste quite as good from my grounded state in steerage. I opened up my computer and used my normal sleeping hours to do some extra work.


A couple hours later, they said we were going to take off and fly through a clearing in the radar. With lightning bolts streaking the sky outside my window, we landed in Chicago early the next morning. Four hours later, I was up again getting ready for the week ahead.




Even though we were grounded, we encountered more weather as the week progressed. Literal rainy days, giving the weeds license to take over more and more turf in my flower beds. And then figurative weather. The realization that my project wasn't going to meet the timeline; the presentation where you start with 'here was the aim ... now here's the adjust.' Words that never go over well. The nanny called off sick. And I scrambled to find coverage in time to catch my train. Then it happened again. Another scramble, another mad dash to the train, another soggy morning in the city, socks sloshing from meeting to meeting.


On Friday afternoon, as Peter asked how I was doing with an emphatic TGIF attached to it, I wondered if there was actually anything to be excited about. But as I walked home to relieve my cousin, Jane, who had saved my day, I saw a little sunshine peak through the clouds, and I decided to let it in.




Because at the end of a rather sour week, I was coming home to my kids. They were there, happy as can be. They had been fed, had taken a nice afternoon nap, had played, learned a thing or two, and experienced the best of life. An hour later, Peter arrived home too. And we were together, looking forward to a weekend that celebrated family. Cherished togetherness.


As I reflect on these photos, I realize the luxuries that life affords me. Togetherness being one of them.


Last week at Mass, with a heavy heart and stern voice, Father Bill delivered a moving homily to a receptive congregation. He shared his sorrow and shame at families being torn apart, the internment of children, and the state of our immigrant country. He ended by nearly whispering, 'We need a prayer. We need a prophet. We need God.'


I can't get his words, and more, his relinquished tone, out of my mind.


Togetherness is not a luxury. It's a human right. And we should stop at nothing to preserve it for all.


Lo.