This week I fly to Michigan. For many months I’ve heard over the phone of Father’s decline and Brother #3’s stamina going down with him. The other brothers come in whenever they can to help out and give B#3 a break. No one has complained I am not doing my share. All the same I hear everyone wishing me to visit; Father is lonely and #3 is worn out. They were heartily disappointed I did not visit at Christmas. In a more down call I said I would visit in January. So I fly this Wednesday. 

I am not at all looking forward to this. I don’t mind helping out, nay, I feel good for doing so. Brother #3 can go to sleep for a few days and Father can ‘vent’ all he wants his losses and loneliness. What I don’t want is the airport experience. After a year of proper and careful protocol for covid19 it feels like I am throwing it all away now. Not only am I bringing plague onto myself but I am bringing it to Michigan as a belated Christmas prize. Last week I talked to Father et. al. purposely wording things to see how they would react to my coming. I wondered (to be honest I hoped) they would have said please cancel and delay until after my vaccination. Rather, Father said (sounding near tears) how glad he was I was coming and he was looking so forward to the visit etc. So that’s that. 

Links and data seem to assure me AA is not a charnel house but follows strict protocols but I am not assured. Just my luck I will sit near some Trump-supporter unmasked daring others to tell him otherwise. 

Brother #4 texted me this weekend a small plane flew into the neighbor’s house situated across the street from him. I am not one to read into ominous signs but there it is. 

I will be brave and go, bringing plenty of masks, and will do what I can. I don’t know how much I will be blogging this week in preparation to go and to be there. 

I am looking forward to sitting in front of a roaring fireplace with a good snort (Brother #3 has good stuff, no rubbish).  I fulfilling a promise to come visit and help out.  That’s what counts.