I’m getting ready for a trip here in a couple of days. Heading out on a jet plane to one of the hottest spots in the nation right now.
And I mean that literally.
Yes, we’re on our way to Frisco, Texas, which, along with the rest of the greater Dallas area, has enjoyed a record breaking 37 days of temperatures over 100 degrees.
And we thought the hurricanes in Florida were bad.
What I’m wondering is, if my only child has to live 1500 miles away from home, why does it have to be in a place where the weather plays these ridiculous tricks on people? First it was Florida, with the ever present threat of being swept away by tidewaters and tropical winds. In Texas, apparently you run the risk of being roasted alive. That is, if you don’t spontaneously combust from the drought. It’s not bad enough that he drags me and his father into these places, now he’s bringing my grandson into the world to live in extremis along with the rest of us.
But, like any red-blooded American mother, I goeth wheresoever my offspring goeth. So off I goeth to Frisco, and pray the power stays on.
Seriously, I think I’m part of a new breed of parent/grandparent. Like nomads, we wander around the world so that we can spend a few precious moments every now and again with our children and their children. Within my fairly limited social circle I have friends who travel to Missouri, Vermont, Santa Barbara, Phoenix, and Texas to visit their children. I suppose I should be thankful – one of my friends from work just welcomed her first grandchild in Norwich, England. And of course, my daughter in law’s poor parents live on the other side of the world, at least in terms of visiting this new grandson.
But don’t get me wrong – I’m thankful that I have the ability to make the trip, and make it fairly frequently if I so desire.
After all, when you’re getting ready to welcome a new grandson in the family, what’s a little heat wave?