|Liz Flaherty & Lynn Flaherty-Lewis|
- We usually travel with a spare pillow. It's comfortable for sleeping in the car and one of us usually uses it in the hotel room, too. We did this time. "Do we have everything?" Duane asked the next morning because I was the one who did the last-round check of the room. "Sure do," I said. I'd left a bookmark, a business card, and the tip for housekeeping. I had my computer and my purse. He had the overnight bag. The pillow is still Somewhere in Kentucky. We didn't have it.
- Yesterday, walking into Target in Pace, Florida, I tripped over a curb and sprawled all over the sidewalk. I attracted the attention of a gorgeous young man who was training at the nearby air station, a bulky and gentle firefighter, a kind assistant manager of Target who hadn't even clocked in yet, a nurse who offered assistance, and a store manager who I think may have been a little concerned I was going to sue his store because I was clumsy. Trauma makes me both sick to my stomach and lightheaded, so it was a very dramatic event. My sister-in-law Lynn--you remember her; she was the other one in the parasailing pictures--was torn between laughing herself silly and trying to figure out how she was going to tell her brother she'd let me get killed on a sidewalk in front of Target. Bruised and battered, I survived.
- Today in Walmart, Lynn suggested I drive around on one of the motorized carts. I mentioned the very real possibility of taking out an end cap and she said, "Forget it," and pushed a regular cart at me. Afterward I offered to go back to Target and promised not to trip. She told me to forget that, too.
- Coming home from supper, I dropped my to-go cup of sweet tea in the backseat of her car and spilled half of it. I didn't feel nearly as bad as I might have if she hadn't been mean to me about going back to Target and if she hadn't laughed all the way home from what could have been a terrible accident. Okay, it wasn't, but it could have been. She mentioned just now that she told all the onlookers that No, she didn't know me, either.
- Sitting outside later, I leaned on the arm of the chair I was sitting in and it broke loose.
And I am reminded if what it is that we write about. It's not just romance or just sex or just anything else. We write about friends and family and things gone awry. About love and death and laughing until our stomach muscles tremble and ache. It makes me, once again, more grateful than I can say.
Love you, Lynn.