I don’t mind flying. Airports pose lots of problems but flying itself affords me the opportunity to imagine that new and refreshing events await. I talk to my seatmates, read Ngaio Marsh novels, and drink bad coffee served by smiling flight attendants with varying degrees of fatigue lingering on their faces.
Yesterday proved challenging in many ways but I got to Oakland from the Delta without difficulty and the Kansas City weather cooperated. A merry seventy-year-old retired nurse entertained me with tales of life in Southern California all the way into MCI. Hertz talked me into an upgrade so in the event of the ice storm, I have all-wheel drive and heated seats. I made my way to my friend Jeanne’s house in Leawood down 1-29 with no right side-view mirror, a malady that I did not notice before leaving the rental car building.
I kept to the far lane all the way to the 47th street exit. Rain slicked from the windshield as I pulled into a parking lot off Brush creek. I couldn’t see what the building was but my heart fluttered at the sight of a lanky security guard loping towards me. Grinning, he leaned around the windshield and pulled the mirror from where it had been folded. You should be fine now, Ma’am, he assured me. I slipped a pewter medallion from my pocket and handed it to him. An angel for an angel, I told him. Maybe he’d rather I had tipped him, but his smile widened.
As I maneuvered my car back to the roadway, I heard his voice: Have a blessed day, he admonished me. I waved out the window and felt my heart ease.
Now I am in a courtroom waiting for lawyers to gather for a pre-trial in which I am the guardian ad litem. The case should settle but it won’t, whether because of the obstinance of the parents or the lack of communication between the lawyers, I can’t say. It will be tried on Tuesday, one way or the other; and I will put one more file to rest. My list of duties here dwindles, and soon, my only tie to Missouri will be the love of my friends and the lifetime of memories.
It’s the twenty-third day of the fiftieth month of My Year Without Complaining. Life continues.