I spent the weekend in Sedona to spend time with my sister. Since I last visited her, in September 2022, her Alzheimer’s has seized hold of her and the prognosis is not good. I’ve basically been in the company of her shell, which absolutely breaks my heart.
Especially since there is really nothing I can do for her except
love her with all my heart.
So here’s my gratitude for today—aside with having been blessed
with her as my big sister.
When I got to the Phoenix airport (early, mirabile dictu,
considering it was United Airlines) I encountered the longest line I’ve ever
been in that didn’t involve an E-ticket ride at the car rental center. All the
other counters had a few customers; Budget had a couple of hundred. (Evidently
I wasn’t the only person who found a deal via Costco travel.) I was in that
line for 90 minutes before I got up to the counter.
(Woman in line behind me never drew breath for that entire time.
I heard all her plans for meals, how her husband “is not a closer”—he gets 90%
of the way and then stops (evidently WRT projects, not sex)—and a lot of stuff
about booze.)
But when I got there, the fella (Deviry, I think) and I chatted.
Turns out that Spring Training (a Thing for baseball) began the day before,
which might have accounted for some of the volume of car renters. He asked me
the purpose of my trip, and I said I was visiting my sister in Sedona.
“How is she doing?” he asked.
I hesitated and said, “Okay” just as he said, “She hanging on?”
Yeah.
“Give her a hug for me,” he said. Okay.
Then, when he handed me the rental sheet, he added, “This is to
remind you.”
Honestly, it was the kindest thing anyone could ever do. I
forgave Budget for the 90 minute line and for the 30 minute further wait in
line for the “Express Assignment” at the garage. (Evidently Budget, Avis and
Thrifty no longer assign you a car at the counter and you find the row and slot
where it’s waiting for you. All three of them use a pool of vehicles, which are
allocated to you by a guy at the head of that second line. The system sucks.)
And I am so grateful for his extra hugs for my sister.
On Saturday, after spending most of the day with my sister and
then getting an update from the two friends who have her medical power of
attorney (it’s grim), I walked over to a Mexican restaurant and told the waiter
I wanted their Grande Margarita.
“The fishbowl?” he asked.
“Yes. I’m walking, not driving.”
So he brought it.
(Two straws seem to indicate they expect two
people to be drinking it? Lightweights.) It was exactly what I needed that day—a
margarita I could swim laps in.
(Just after that arrived at my table, I got this text from a
friend, and I’m grateful for that, too.)
He checked on me frequently during my dinner, and when I was
done with my quesadilla, there was still about half of the margarita left. I
said I wanted to take it with me. He wanted to know where I was staying, and I
said just across the street.
Here’s the thing—I cannot think that Arizona has any laws on the
books holding a restaurant liable for anything untoward that happens to a
pedestrian after they’ve drunk half a fishbowl of margarita. He just wanted to
make sure I was okay. And I’m grateful for that.
(Took me three hours to finish it, but I drank it all.)
I’m also grateful for the Arizona sunrises. They are super.
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