Two years ago MiniMe went to India, fell off a mountain in the Himalayas, and shattered her foot. For a long time I would tease her, “Been on any good trips lately?” Karma came around and kicked me in the ass (and shoulder). So, this year, when she returned from Europe, Sleepless and I decided to welcome her home like a typical U.S. family – broken.
We each donned a hospital gown from my previous visits to medical facilities and, while doing so, discovered a surprise. “Is that blood on your gown?” Sleepless asked. “Yes, it appears that way. Good thing it is my own….hopefully,” I replied, put my sling on, and then helped Sleepless with her gown and sling. We decided to give her outfit an extra touch by adding a crutch.
Once at the airport we grabbed the “Welcome Home” sign and anxiously stood at the base of the escalators and baggage claim carousels. To bide the time, Sleepless twirled around on her crutch. A few minutes into us being there we noticed some of the airport staff walking around with two wheelchairs. “I have a feeling they’re looking for us,” I told Sleepless. Sure enough. “Excuse me, do you need a wheelchair?” they asked us. “No. It would be nice to sit down, but no,” I replied. “They said two people in hospital gowns needed wheelchairs so we assumed it was you two,” they advised. “Makes sense,” Sleepless said, a little less twirly. “Should we keep one for MiniMe?” I asked Sleepless, but by then the two, now irritated, employees had rolled away.
Right soon after, MiniMe excitedly came down the escalator and was reunited with her broken family. Reunited and it feels so good, as long as you don’t touch my shoulder.