1.16.21 :: Vegas
I wish I had some life-altering revelation to share with you today, but, really, I just took a bath. Bubble, of course. It was hot and deep and glorious. (Don't get any ideas.) I started Lovestruck in the City and am hoping the surf scenes are a sign of things to come. Taking my covid test in the morning and if the results go my way...I'll be Honolulu-bound on Tuesday!
Disney will always be there, but for some reason the flights to Orlando were not. I don't know if JetBlue has pulled back--it's suffering for sure. But that, paired with the cost of the hotels on property, quickly set my heart a Googling, and Hawaii has been a spiritual home for me for years. Remember how hard it was for me to connect to the land in Lone Pine? Complete opposite. Imagine a lush playground you can stroll and tumble along until you feel like taking a long float in a clear green sea. That's my Hawaii.
If anyone else has huge travel banks waving their little hands, shouting, I'm still here! I can safely say that right now you will get a big bang for your buck, if you're willing to put some money back into the tourism industry and have a plan for safe flying. (Double masks, glasses, no eating in-flight, trusting your fellow man who--let's face it--hasn't been the most trustworthy since 2016 let everyone just say and do whatever the hell they want, etc.)
I've got enough points and credits to fly business there, first class home. As my Aunt Pat told me in November, it's time to throw all my money in the pot. And I don't think she was talking about SkipBo.
The fact that my Aunt Pat passed away in 2019 yet spoke to me in the fall will probably alarm some people and send skeptics rolling their eyes, but my friend Joy thinks she's guiding me even in this decision, and I agree. And oh how I love her so for always being on my spirit team in life, and death.
Aunt Pat was my grandma's little sister. Full of spice, her heart and mind on her sleeve, she once ran away from home in a squirrel fur coat with money her dad had given her--only to come right back after a train ride. She was a mom of three, a bus driver, and gave the biggest kisses whenever I saw her--and I saw her a lot over the past decade. Especially when my grandparents moved into the same assisted living home. It was common to be sleeping on the sofa in their apartment (anyone who's ever sat on that paisley marshmallow knows the barest rest of the head causes instant narcolepsy) and hear a big knock and a "yoo-hoo!" There she was, in her blinged-out hat, full lipstick, rolling in on an electric wheelchair. One time, she had me paint KEEP BACK in white out on the seat, so fellow rollers wouldn't ram into her, I guess. Or vice versa.
She would sit in the kitchen area and update all of us on her side of the family--20+ great-grandchildren I've only met once or twice at an informal Ohio family reunion at which I was a slight interloper, being from the still and silent Livingston branch of the tree--quietly hiding near the top. But she would have none of my silence on visits.
Where are you off to next? (Insert foreign destination or Orlando.) Good girl.
How's the job? (Great!) That's a girl.
Do you have a boyfriend? (Not yet.) Keep looking.
And, always, always: I love you.
She didn't hide a thing and had a voice that could shake the room if she chose to raise it up. Made sure to brag and boast to her floormates whenever I sat at the card table. Was so generous with her heart and anything she could give. And I miss her incredibly.
After my grandfather died (her birthday buddy) in July, I was--and still am--devastated. Covid deaths, I imagine, are like military deaths. You can't be there with the one you love. You can't even see them be buried. I was fortunately able to FaceTime the funeral, but what I wouldn't have given to have held my grandma that day.
Well, according to the medium I Zoomed in November: Grandpa knew I was there. Over the phone. And he's watching over me, too. The zillion hawks I've seen and have been pointed out and sent to me over the past couple of months affirm his support in the most magical way. Though he only got a few minutes to share his thoughts, because Aunt Pat went straight to the front of the line for my reading and stole the damn show! In essence: she knew I would be traveling this winter (exact dates, even). She's predicted incredible happenings for me on the West Coast (which is why the change of plans this week was doubly disappointing). And she's got my back.
Because, as the medium said, you're such a good girl.
If she's sending me to Hawaii, I won't complain. We'll see how the chips--or covid results--fall. I'm definitely in the market for a nice local, preferably one who will feed me vegan loco moco and is indulgently brawny. In the meantime, I spent today lounging in bed with Bao, watching mindless people with lips they could tuck into their pants argue over imaginary riffs, the sky dimming as the strip flipped the light switch. Tomorrow, it's off to the Grand Canyon.
Please pray that I don't fall in. Sweet dreams, my friends. xx
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