Do You Know Where You Are?

Do You Know Where You Are?

I’m home now. After a warm week in the Florida sun visiting my parents, I am at home. The road, or should I say sky, to get home was a bit bumpy.

I was dropped off at the airport and checked my suitcase in at 6:30 pm and proceeded to glide through the airport on my knee scooter to my gate. I have a broken foot that after 8 weeks in a boot now needs surgery. Ugh. As I stood ready to board the plane, a woman who looked about my age asked me about my foot. We both came alive when we learned that we lived in the same hometown and so with that thread shared knowledge, we picked seats next to each other. What I anticipated to be a routine flight home, became another story in my life to tell.

As the flight took off, Jan Sheehan and I started a running dialogue that didn’t stop until 3:30 am, but it only takes 2.5 hours to fly to Indianapolis. Let me back up.

Once Jan and I settled in our seats, we both began a quest to find common ground. Surely, one of her children knew mine. Her four girls were all about the same age as my three boys. Surely, we had at least one friend that we both knew. Try as we might, we could not find anyone or anything that would bring our lives together in spite of living minutes from each other.

As we began sharing our family photos and videos, the ride became a bit bumpy, and I began to get a bit panicky. As the ride began to get very bumpy and I got very panicky, Jan reassured me that in her expertise after much flying experience, this was just a little storm, and so we proceeded our deep, very focused discussion in sharing our life stories.

When we landed, with much relief, I called my husband who I knew I was just minutes away from giving a big hug. “We’re here,” I said. “Uh, no you’re not, he argued. “Yes, we just landed.” I
tried to correct him. Duh! “Lisa, do you know where you are? You are in Louisville!” He was laughing now. Apparently, we were in such a deep discussion at one point even trying to arrange marriages between our children that we missed the announcement that it was too dangerous to land and we had to refuel in Louisville.

I grabbed Jan’s arm and tried to save her from the embarrassment of having the same conversation with her daughter, but I was too late.

For the next hour and a half we sat in a stuffy plane with nothing to do but continue to marry off our children and try to find a common friend we both knew. I had gone through about everyone I knew, then I thought of one more. “How about Janet Ostendorf,” I said. She lit up. “She is one of my best friends!” “No, she is one of my best friends,” I argued smiling. There it was. The thread became a thick cord of new a new relationship through the common friend of Janet Ostendorf, but then I thought who doesn’t know Janet Ostendorf! Lol.

By the time we finally made it to Indianapolis at 3:30 am, My new friend admitted to me that she had already lied to me. No, it was not a mild storm. Inside, she was scared to death. She just told me it was mild to keep me calm. With that knowledge I say boldly and without reservation, yes, I know where I am. I always knew where I was, right next to a new friend who I believe I will be adding to my treasure chest of friends. I believe we will be laughing about not knowing where we were for years to come.

Janet Ostendorf, Jan, and I are having lunch next week, but I’m not surprised any more. Everyone in town knows the beloved Janet Ostendorf!

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Author: parkinsons95

I used to be a stay in the lines, go with the flow, don't make waves kind of person. I have changed. Parkinson's is one of the many cards dealt to one in life that can shift the mind set. I am now a find the line and push beyond it, swim against the flow, and waves? I will splash and make as much joyful noise as I can, while I can, fearlessly. Brave.

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