We pack the evening before, knowing that we have to wake the boys at 5:30 am. At some point in the night, I hear Joshua say, “Dad, it’s 6:00.” Panicked, we jolt awake. Matt gets up and Joshua points out to him that “the long hand is on the 6.” Yes, my child it is, but the short hand is between the 2 and the 3 [note to self: focus on telling time in homeschooling sessions]. We all go back to bed.
Matt habitually checks the weather. He will occasionally shove his phone in my face and say, “Look! Look at this! Can you believe this?” I have no idea how to read his weather charts. I’ve told him this repeatedly.
All I can think is “Hmmm … cubism?” He says there is a low pressure system going through Chicago and he really doesn’t like the fact that we fly Charleston-Chicago-Cleveland in the morning.
Upon arrival at the airport, the agent says our flight is cancelled. “You don’t understand,” I say, “I have minor surgery scheduled for 9 am tomorrow and a 3:15 pre-op appointment today.” The agent shakes his head and says he doesn’t even know if he can get us out tomorrow – particularly with four of us. Malachi looks at me and says, “Mom, I’m going to pray” and then squeezes his eyes shut tight. I stand, mute, willing the agent to figure out a solution. I say that I’ll fly alone and Matt and the boys can follow later. The agent leaves and comes back, still shaking his head no. Joshua pokes me and says he is praying and that I should too. The agent leaves again. I quickly ask the Universe for help. The agent comes back and says that, miraculously, he found us four seats on another airline – re-routed through weather-friendly Atlanta. I get to my appointment with 8 minutes to spare.