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  • Writer's picturemaggiehsmith07

Explore the Poe-ssibilities

Yesterday morning seems like it was many yesterday’s ago. As I walked in the shade on my way to work,  a thought came to me from long ago, how my mom would tell me to “Explore the possibilities.” That’s what’s going on this weekend. I’m reading a book about raising chickens. Maybe someday. I have a beekeeping book too. Once, Andrea and I took a beekeeping class. I fear bees would drown in our pool. I recently listened to a book called The Honey Bus by Meredith May. It was so good. It renewed my interest in beekeeping. I begged Andrea to listened to the book. After she finished, she texted and said, “OK. I’m all in on beekeeping.” Maybe someday. This weekend, I’ve tagged along with Andrea to see where it is she goes on her work trips to Virginia. It’s the trip that almost wasn’t. At almost 330 yesterday, she texted, “Leaving. Jesus.” Which told me that she had a day similar to mine. And here I’d thought I could slide into the 4th. Wrong. Our Waze shortcut to the airport turned out not to be a shortcut at all and then there was the wrong turn we didn’t have time for... We parked our car at Logan around 518 PM for a 550 departure. I begged people to let us go ahead of them in security and they complied. I set an alarm off and they called for a female security guard. I stood there several minutes and then said, “Look. Female. Male. Who cares. Let’s go.” I guess they determined I wasn’t a threat and I was finally waved through. We sprinted to gate C32, I was wearing heels which is rare and was the worst possible day to do so. I teetered to gate C32 as Andrea was realizing our gate had been moved to C10. Andrea barked at the desk to call the gate to let them know we were on the way. She asked a second Jet Blue desk to do the same. At some point, I lost sight of Andrea and had all but given up on the notion we were going anywhere. I felt a blister forming on my foot and was breathless and sweating. “Jesus. Gotta exercise and lose weight.” I breathlessly muttered to myself, defeated. As I turned the corner towards the final stretch to gate C10, I heard our names paged once more, “THIS IS THE FINAL BOARDING CALL FOR JET BLUE FLIGHT 310 TO RICHMOND. PAGING PASSENGERS SMITH....” I began to run again and gate 10 came into view, “WAIT!” I shrieked, a glass wall partition separating me from the gate. One gate worker signaled to me that it was okay, we were going to make it. Another jokingly suggested I jump the wall. Andrea looked on from the gate, withered. We made it onto the plane, sweat poured from my forehead, so much so that a flight attendant handed me napkins. I wheezed a thank you and Andrea offered me a high five as I slumped into the seat next to her. “We made it!” Yeah. Looks like tomatoes. We sat behind a super creepy guy who kept talking to his female seat mate, whom he’d just met. She was a (married) dental student at Tufts University. The fact she was married didn’t deter him at all. He chattered endlessly and never heard of Agatha Christie, “I know what death is....and I know what the Nile is...but I’ve never heard Death on the Nile.” Is this a pick up line? If I saw him and his dad, seated across the aisle from him, on a true crime show, I wouldn’t be surprised. 

Since Vegas, my sleep schedule has been in ruins. The first night home, I was up until 4 AM. Things have improved, but not much. I can’t fall asleep, or stay that way, regardless of what I try. So today, I slept too late and we then visited the Edgar Allen Poe Museum in Richmond today. Poe didn’t live in any of the 4 buildings that comprised the museum but had lived in Richmond at one point. Two black cats, Pluto and Edgar, lived on the museum property and Pluto became fast friends with Andrea. No sign of Edgar. We drove around and I admired the murals in Richmond.  A thunderstorm blew in and hung around.  Thankfully we’d passed on the Flying Squirrels baseball game.  You would think the rain would cool things down.  It doesn’t.  It seems to enhance the mugginess - my hair scrunched into a lumpy snarl in the back. Tomorrow, sleep or no sleep, we get up early and drive to Lynchburg which is supposedly named after the founder of Lynchburg, James Lynch. I looked this up, fearing it was named after lynchings. James Lynch is their story and they are sticking to it. Andrea has a fancy meeting Monday. I think it’s a secret so keep it between us.  

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