Our sixteen-year-old granddaughter, McKayla, flew home to Illinois today after spending the past week with Studly Doright and me here at Doright Manor in the Florida panhandle. While it wasn’t her first time to fly, it was her first solo adventure, and it included a layover in Charlotte, North Carolina.
I was nervous about sending her off on her own, but McKayla is a competent young woman and I knew with a few instructions she’d be just fine. But this morning we woke to heavy rain, including thunderstorms, that extended all along the first part of her plane’s flight path and I began worrying about such things as delayed and/or cancelled flights. What if’s began attacking my thoughts. I just couldn’t let her go into the blue without some safeguards.
So we paid the extra fee to ensure that someone from the airline would walk her between gates and look after her until she was safely in her mom’s arms in Chicago. Money well spent—I was able to relax knowing she wouldn’t have to navigate any setbacks alone.
Of course I won’t totally relax until she and our daughter are safely back in their home, but the airline didn’t provide that kind of post-flight assistance. Can we begin teleporting soon? It’d be a lot easier on my nerves. Of course then I’d find something else to worry about. Like, did all my molecules arrive simultaneously?