- unless you count the plane full of soldiers that were heading home for Christmas and had stopped over in Bangor, and the Maine Troop Greeters who handed them cell phones and patted them on the back and shook their hands and said "thank you,'' and then, when their plane was ready to go again, the greeters stood along the rampway clapping their hands and wishing "merry christmas'' to all those men and women;
- and of course unless you count the man who sat on the floor under the bank of telephones, crying, telling whomever was on the other end of the line that his wife had kicked him out of his own house and he couldn't go back for his belongings unless the police accompanied him and he was now in "deep shit, I tell you, really deep shit. I'm telling you. I'm really in trouble.''
- and of course unless you count the man who was REJECTED by TSA as he tried to board a Delta Flight and RAN back to his car in the parking lot with his duffel bag in his hand and dropped off the prohibited stuff - likely shampoo, anti-fungus foot cream and other flammables and incendiaries - and then RAN back into the airport, and RAN through the screening just as final call was under way.
- and of course unless you count the miraculous sight of my daughter and granddaughter coming through the gate, tears in Faye's eyes and a HUGE smile on Kiley's face as she proceeded to tell everyone - including the luggage - "HI" which is the only word she currently knows.
So we came home.
And today I had to give the lay sermon at church. I was so scared...a reporter is an observer, not a participant and even if they were all loving faces out there, and Kiley was still loudly calling out "HI" to all the people in the stained glass windows from the back pew, I was Nervous Nelly up there. I used a giant orange paper clip to distract me while I spoke and kept twisting it in my hands until it flew about three feet to my left from the pulpit, oddly taking direct aim at the organist's eyes but thankfully falling one foot short. whew.
But I am a trooper - yes I am - and I kept right on talking and sermonizing, knowing that EVERYONE saw the orange paper clip try to decapitate the organist.
Afterwards everyone came up and said "it was wonderful" and "thank you" which was quite appropriate because the theme was gratitude.
So now my girls have been reunited with Daddy/Hubby Matt who DROVE from Detroit, MI, and looks like leftover salad, all wilted and green, and they are on their way back home to Machias. My house still smells like pooey diapers, there are fingerprints over all the windows and the dog is hiding under the afghan on the couch, mourning the loss of her favorite friend. Move over Emma, I'm coming under there too!