back to reality

My mom is in my room at 8, reminding me of our departure time this morning. The airport (more like a big landing strip, according to Alexander) is an hour away in moderate traffic. My mom likes to get to where she's going with plenty of time to spare.

We negotiate the leaving time, factoring in a stop to pick up cinnamon rolls at Dana's and two cranberry loaves at the Maison Villatte in downtown Falmouth. "No later than 9:45, and I want everything in the car by then." We have about three minutes to spare, and my mom and Alexander reluctantly pose for one last photo. The latter because she's already getting nervous about the time; the former because he's sick of posing for me.

It's been a great week, but I'm sure my mom is anxious to have her house and schedule back. We get to the airport at 11:20. Plenty of time for our 1:09 flight.

The flight is quick. The subway ride from the airport is hot and crowded.

We get home, unpack, pick up sushi, and watch  Breaking Bad.

I bring home a temporary souvenir from my days away from the city. Three gigantic bites on my right forearm. One on my left thigh. And two mean ones on my right inner thigh. I guess that's the price for for good country living.