One of my favorite memories as a child was when my dad would take the whole family down to the airport to sit in the dirt roadway and watch them take off and land.
It was the greatest thing to us. My dad would say “jump in the car and let’s go for an ice cream”. We would scream and jump in the back of the station wagon, go through the drive thru at McDonalds to get a cone, then head on down the street to the airport.
Once we were there, we’d park in this little dirt road just off to the side of the run way and sit on the hood of the car. Back then, there was nothing but a little chain link fence between the road and the runway, so you could see the take offs and landings perfectly. We would sit there for hours and watch. I couldn’t get enough of it, it was so exciting for me. My dad would always end up having to drag me back into the car because I didn’t ever want to leave.
I have always wanted to take my kids to do the same thing, but now the airport is completely different and there isn’t anywhere to sit and watch like there was before. It makes me sad because as corny as it may sound, it was so much fun to sit there as a family, eating ice cream and watching these huge planes touch down on the runway and come to a screaching stop.
Still to this day, when I see a plane taking off from the distance, I will follow it with my eyes until it disappears into the sky and I think back to the days of being a little girl, sitting on the hood of my dads station wagon, with my head on his shoulders, waiting for the next plane to take off or land. My brothers and sister would be running around in the dirt, licking their ice creams, laughing…
That memory just makes me smile because all was right in my little world back then.
Monthly Archives: July 2003
Missing you.
Auntie, I miss you.
I was trying to go to sleep and everytime I closed my eyes I would see your beautiful smile. And then I could hear you singing to me. Remember the song you used to sing to me? I do. I will never forget it.
I miss your phone calls, I miss you telling me like it was, telling me to get off my ass and do something about my problems, I miss your visits on the holidays. I miss your letters. I miss your laugh. I just miss you.
I am sorry I didn’t call much the last few months of your life. If I had known how you would die so suddenly, I would have called you everyday and told you how much I loved and adored you. I would have told you how proud I was of how hard you fought your illness and how you did it with such grace. I would have told you how I marveled at your strength and courage. I’m so sorry I didn’t.
I called the hospital as soon as I heard you were rushed there. I talked to Uncle, I asked him to tell you I loved you so much, I asked him to tell you that I wanted you to be ok, but if you were just to tired to hang on, to just let go and know that I love you. He did that and he told me you squeezed his hand. He told me that he believed you heard him and I have to believe it too because I didn’t get the chance to tell you myself, so I have to believe you heard him say it.
I took out the pictures of the day we spent at Knotts Berry Farm with Andrew when he was little. I remember how much you fell in love with him when you saw him. And he loved you right back. I am so glad I took pictures of that day because the look on your face reminds me how much you loved my son and I can show him that and even if he doesn’t remember that day, he has the picture to remind him that you thought he was an angel and I’ll tell him how you were my angel.
I’m so glad you’re not in pain anymore but I wish I could hug you so tight right this minute and hear you sing to me. I wish you could wipe away these tears that are falling off of my cheek this minute. I still love you and even though it’s been almost three years, tonight it feels like it was just yesterday that I had to say goodbye.
I love you.