Maybe We Are

As you know, we schlepped Hangdog from Indiana to Mississippi for the mother-in-law's funeral and burial. Once we reached our destination, lots of people pitched in to help. But, the traveling part (planes, automobiles and wheelchairs) was left to us.

The husband ran like a lackey. Coffee? He's on it. Don't they have any danishes? He's on it. Pop has to go to the bathroom. He's on it. Again and again and again.

At one point, we left him (in the wheelchair) parked at the appropriate gate. Then, the airline changed the gate. We were trying to steal 10 minutes. A Bloody Mary seemed like a good idea.

My wife-in-law (who had already had her flight diverted) found him in the airport and moved him to the appropriate gate. Then, she called the husband to let him know of the gate change.

In the midst of this, Hangdog said to her, "They are so lucky to be so care free." I won't repeat the conversation but I think the gist of it was annihilating him. (Kindly!) I think she told him that the stress is showing on our faces, our bodies and our lives.

So, we bolted back to take care of Pop. As we're sailing through the airport, the husband said to me, "You know how everyone always says we're saints for all that we've done? Maybe we are."