I told myself that I wasn’t upset when the trip got canceled at the last minute.
My once-in-a-lifetime chance to fly first-class to Paris, a gift from my daughter who had arranged to take me with her on a work trip, had vanished just as I was checking my luggage to make sure it would close. Anything that wouldn’t fit, I had decided to wear on the plane thereby elevating layering to an art form.
“Better save some space,” Sara had said with a mischievous smile. “You just might want to go shopping.” She’s my daughter all right.
The phone rang just as I was trying to extract my thumb from the zipper on my carry-on bag.
“Everything fit in,” I announced with pride, “including my finger.”
As I started to list the items I was taking, I could hear Sara’s voice in the background. “Mom, I need to tell you something.”
“Just a sec. I want to text you a photo of the faux fur hat I bought to keep my ears warm, but still look stylish.”
“Please stop talking, Mom.”
“Sorry, I’m so excited about this trip. Oh la la.” Because we had to take a night flight, her client had booked us in first class so we could sleep. I was already picturing myself tucking into the cozy little pod with a TV on the wall and a sofa that turned into a bed. And 24-hour room service.
“Mom, I need to tell you something; could you please just be quiet for a minute?”
“I think I’ll put the hat on for the picture, so you can get the full effect.”
Before I could start talking again, Sara told me that due to a family emergency her client had to cancel our trip.
“You mean cancel as in we are not going?”
“Yes, mom, that’s what cancel usually means. Are you still there?”
“Yes, honey I’m fine,” I said glancing in the mirror at the image of a woman wearing a fur hat and a nightgown.
Suddenly, Sara and I burst into inappropriate laughter, an annoying family trait we sometimes have when something bad is happening.
When I got off the phone, I had an urgent need to do something productive so I decided to take out the trash while it was still light. A bag of recycling in one hand and trash in the other, I made my way down the kitchen porch steps to the trash bins.
As I lifted the lid and bent over to put in the trash, my glasses slipped off my face into the bottom of the can. I felt another laughing fit coming on as the glasses, covered in orange peel, looked up at me.
Recently Sara had given me a chain to affix to my reading glasses since I was constantly misplacing them. She had said the trick is that I had to actually use it. Her words were ringing in my ears as I tipped the large trash can over, reluctantly crawled in and retrieved my unchained glasses.
“If you don’t promise to use the chain, I am not taking you to Paris,” Sara had said.
I am trying hard to convince myself that there is no connection to the trip being canceled on the day I left my chain on the nightstand.
Oh, Paris, we came so close.
Email patriciabunin@sbcglobal.net. Follow her on X @patriciabunin and Patriciabunin.com
Related Articles
What stories lay hidden in my creaking cabinet of curiosities?
The gophers came for a snack and now refuse to leave
Stepping into the darkness leaves me feeling unsettled
It’s time to vote, and I’m reminded of my mother’s joy at casting her ballot
Dishing the dirt with my daughter about making mud pies