chronicles of an antiquing trip

Sometimes a journey is such a once in a life time event that it must
be chronicled. Like Narnia.
And while I wasn't swept away into another dimension by a portal
through a wardrobe or a pond with magic rings,
my last six days with my mom and sisters have been other wordly.
(Dad ending up peacing out back to DC - he and mom are getting ready
to move in a week and there was much to be done.)
We visited a land where breakfast was set before us without
our preparing it and on a every corner stood a fast friend,
Dunkin Donuts, which beckoned us to come inside and drink
of its hazelnut iced coffee with skim milk goodness or earl gray tea or
blueberry coffee or whatever took our fancy, sometimes twice a day.
Hello, lovely Dunkin Donuts.
We were taken to a land where shopping and spending at any given
moment was expected of me. Mom provided a treasure fund.
We cheered each other on with,
"Oh, that is such a good deal!" or "It would go perfect in your living room!"
Spending without repurcussions...unimagineable.
In this land, we did things that baffle the mind,
like lounging on beds and staying up late into the night finishing good books
and taking a late night walk on the beach and talking with other
people without interruption. This land has a name.
It is called Maine. Hello, lovely Maine.
But I have to begin at the beginning. Because I get ahead of myself.
Erica, Jenny and I flew out on Friday mornings splitting the sky
in our United Jet, swathed in reading material for the trip.
We were hunkered down with snacks and laughter and made the 5 hour flight
into Boston. One thing must be said about the flying.
Erica and I do not take to the flying. Jenny is so so on it.
We used to be fine with the flying. I landed on a runway in Albania
with livestock on it once. I'm not sure when the fear began to set in
but I've noticed it has a tendency to build. Stupid fear.
There is something about catapulting through the air in a metal tube
high above the clouds that makes the stomach feel a little wonky.
Add to that some turbulence.
And Erica and I tend to retreat into the dark corners of the mind,
clenching the arm rests, taking deep cleansing breaths and whispering
fervent prayers to God for mercy and stable air
because the bouncing and shifting and dropping at 30,000 feet? Not so much.
We both know we are in the palm of God's hand.
We just wish he would choose to keep the palm a bit more steady.
I have been known to call out to Jesus outloud in turbulence.
But nothing was keeping us from this trip, turbulence or no turbulence.
Sometimes you have to barrel through your fears and the upside is
you feel very close to Jesus after hours of bouncy prayer. You really do.
We landed in Boston and met up with our sister-in-law, Traci at our gate.
She said she could hear us coming before she saw us.
There was excitement in the air, people. Mom and Dad picked us up curbside.
And the adventure began. Oh the adventures.
Just wait until you hear about the ice cream.
Hello, lovely ice cream.