a visit to the cape

Alexander and I are meeting Valerie in Stamford.  From there, we are driving up to the Cape.  We get to Grand Central in plenty of time for our 9:34 train, which is scheduled to arrive in Stamford at 10:21.  It should be a quick ride.  But what should be isn't.  The schedule I had checked Sunday night has changed.  Our train still leaves at 9:34, but it now takes 67 minutes instead of 44. And, I don't realize this until it's 10:20 and we have about five more stops.  My sister is not happy when we arrive close to 11.

Things get worse from there.  Torrential downpours.  Traffic jams.  Hovering clouds.  An accident.  A wrong exit.  Our three hour trip from Stamford takes five. 

We arrive at the hospital in late afternoon and my mother and sister Jean are already there.  My dad is clearly happy to see everyone.  Unfortunately his ritz-style room has been downgraded to one nearer the nurse station, as he needs more care than originally planned.  My dad looks good, but is clearly still in pain.  He is on medication and my mom describes him this way:  He’s a little loopy.

The rainy, damp weather has turned my short, blown-dry hair into a frizzed, unstyled mess.  I can’t wait for it to grow back.  Two inches should take about four months.  Valerie’s hair looks great.  Long, blond-ish, and straight.  Before we leave, my dad looks at my sister and says, “Valerie, your hair looks horrible.”  It actually looks beautiful, as it always does, and mine looks dreadful, as it frequently does.  We laugh until tears dot my dad’s face, his humor still intact.