I ran into Alexis the other day. After catching up some, the conversation turned to Michael, as it always does. The last either of us heard, four days earlier, was his status post “Plane delayed. Just Chilin in the airport”.
Sure, I suppose I could call him, day six now, to see if and when his flight got off, but it so much more fun imagining him as Viktor Navorski, stuck in The Terminal. Its not that I wish him ill, Viktor managed and overcame his circumstance. I wouldn’t say Michael’s worldly but I give him credit for being capable. After all, he’s a grown man now, and there is no law saying that he should be checking in with his mother. But, update your status man!
The mind wonders from humor to tragedy, was he abducted, and how sad, and how tragic would it be, that six days had passed before his mother reported him missing. I’m a terrible human being… back at the emergency room getting ripped a new one by an attending for allowing my grandmother to live on her own.
My Baba, built from strong stock, social, independent, whom till the day of her stroke would walk all those city blocks to church and wheel that cart up and down Grand Avenue and Steinway Street shopping. Shame on me for allowing her the independence to lay on the floor all those hours before her friend, Eva’s grandmother, Maryann found her following the stroke. It was so long after that even the gelatin in the fridge firmed.
Like Baba, I can’t stand in the way of Michael’s independence. He has a whole world of people on the west coast. I could call or I could let go… Somehow, no matter the circumstance, it always goes back to Baba. It must be the love!