I'm back.

Sorry for the long absence there, it's been a terrible week. My grandmother died on Thursday and I flew up to Detroit with my family for the funeral and etc. Weirdly, my first reaction was anger at my dad, because he told me that she was doing better. Like it's somehow his fault that his 95 year old mother passed away. . . I guess she was trying to fake us out or something. Even stranger was my next thought, that I didn't have to worry about her dying anymore . . . not one of my more rational moments.

The trip: a bizarre combination of grief and hilarity, mourning combined with a crazy family reunion. Travelling with my parents always seems to reduce me to a child-state, which added to the overall unreality of the trip; going from my usual autonomy to being strapped into the backseat, sharing a room with my sister, and being kept on a need-to-know basis . . .


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Upon first checking into the hotel, KK accidentally crushes our dad and his suitcase between the elevator doors-- she was trying to hit the 'door open' button but got confused. We're all five of us crammed into the elevator with our bags, waiting, complaining about how slow the elevator is, when we realize that nobody's hit the floor button; we're still sitting on the ground floor. Good thing nobody else tried to go up or else we would have filed back out into the lobby. Travelling doesn't bring out the best in my kin, I guess.

On the flight back to Dallas we were all in different rows because we got the tickets last minute. Right before takeoff, my mom calls me-- her cell phone to my cell phone-- to ask where we are. We are on the same plane. She wants to know what row we're in. And if I can see my dad on the plane too. (I can.) One of the many unfathomable mysteries of motherhood, I guess.