Oh dear, small airports, and to be a daughter again

I'm in Western WA at my parents' house - we flew in Thursday morning, after getting up at 4:30 a.m. to get to the airport and spending about 9 hours en route. Funny, because in Minneapolis, it was 4-5 hours. We're living out there, baby: and, well, it added quite a bit of time onto any kind of traveling.

It actually went very well; both baby and toddler were even tempered and easy to entertain. It was such a relief, because much of my week [spent dodging carpenters and electricians, btw - the remodel wasn't complete until Friday, the day after I left] was spent dreading it. People's favorite thing to say to me was, "Boy, it looks like you have your hands full!" Yep.

And don't even get me started on the Sioux Falls airport - it looked like a rinky-dink bus depot from the outside. We were late, of course, and I ran up to the security stop panicked, telling them that my flight was leaving in 10 minutes, and I needed to get through. There were 20-30 people in line ahead of me and I fretted that I'd never make it in time. The security officer was quite rude, saying, "Yes, everyone else is too." I was incredulous, and said again, "Excuse me, my flight is leaving in 10 minutes - I don't think I'm going to be able to make it!" And again, she said, "Everyone else is too!" and then ignored me.

And really, everyone else was: just like she said. There was only one flight leaving from the Sioux Falls airport that morning, and that. was. it. Oh, the humiliation. My list grows with every passing month. I'm just not used to the smallness of it all. [Even more humiliating, my flight wasn't actually leaving in 10 minutes; I was somehow confused and we actually had a half-hour before departure. Doh!!]

Oh dear.

I must say, it feels so good to be home; it is nice to be a daughter again. I know that I'm always a daughter, but it feels so good to be home; taken care of; under my parents' roof: a daughter again. And the green-smelling earthy air! I could just faint in the bed of moss under my parents' plum trees and lay there forever, like a sleeping fairy. I'd get wet, of course, but it would be dreamy.