Dad ordered an Uber Thursday morning because we were not keen to navigate the tube. I slept most of the way to Heathrow Airport, while squished in the middle seat.
My Bible and books, Grant’s shampoo, and Mom’s deck of cards were all flagged. Thankfully we enjoy being at airports many hours before our flight leaves. We ate breakfast at The Curator in the airport mall. I wanted a London Fog but our waiter didn’t know what it was. I googled it and apparently it originated in Vancouver, BC. How deflating. So I ordered Earl Grey with hot milk and of course an elderflower soda.
Our flight only had 146 passengers, so Grant and I moved from row 61 up to 60 after we were in the sky. I was sleeping almost every time the complimentary services came through. I saw Grant had food and when I awoke one time, so I looked at the menu on the video screen. When I saw an attendant I asked for lasagna, but apparently I read it wrong (it was just pasta with red sauce). They were rightly confused and then they forgot to bring it for a while. I got real silverware though when she did bring my tray.
Later they brought tea and I was actually awake. The flight attendants, Mom and I started talking about where we live and all kinds of things. The one girl lives in Ireland by the sea, and works part time at a cafe. By the time we finished talking she asked if I wanted more, so I said sure. I ate another scone with clotted cream (definitely shouldn’t have) and Grant had the cheese and pickle sandwich. For airport tea time, it was delicious.
The brunette lady came by and complimented my watercolor, so I painted little pictures of Idaho for the attendants in our section. Mom had also given them embroidery. They were literally the most attentive and kind even before we gave them gifts, so they rightly deserved them. As we deplaned one lady told me to either fly again or just apply to work with them. I believe it was best airline I’ve ever been flown. Quite posh (for basic economy) as one may say.
It feels sweet to arrive in your home country. The people just look American. Sounds obvious but it’s still funny to me because a lot of Americans come from Britain.
I loved the intrigue and mystery of meeting people from “foreign” countries, but eventually one must go back home. It’s nice I don’t have to watch my pockets after being used to that in London.
Customs was so painless. I stepped up to the box before the gentleman told me. With a smile, he looked at me straight in the eyes and asked if I have anything to declare. I was thinking, “Um, Jesus loves you,” but instead I quickly said, “water” and he let me go.
I bought a latte from the Italian coffee roasters. It was nice to be able to drink one with almond milk again, but oh my how overpriced is this. I’ll have to stop these buying habits if I ever want to leave the country again.
I went on a little power walk through the terminal. After 22k steps the day prior and sitting on a ten hour flight, moving feels very good. I was feeling giddy because nobody knows that I just got back from the trip of a lifetime. Then I realized that I don’t know where they’ve been, perhaps it’s something sad. Here’s how Webster’s puts it:
sonder: (noun) the realization and understanding that all other people have lives as complex as one’s own.
Our 45 minute flight to Spokane we had very friendly people seated around us, who talked the whole time. We were convincing a couple to visit the UK, especially Oxford (because he was a fan of Lewis and Tolkien). Another man went to college in Idaho and he delivered papers in the town we live. He said, “People actually still live there?” When we landed he told us to enjoy our three hour drive home (that he just had twelve minutes).
I didn’t join in all of the talking, because the view out of my window was so breathtaking. Half the time the conversation was about sports and I was so lost.
We arrived home after eight in the evening. The first thing I saw in my room was a box of tea and flowers. Thank you, Janice🥰. A pot of tea brewed as I started to unpack. I broke one of the gifts I bought, because I was tired and forgot that it was there. So I left my suitcase and backpack open on the floor to finish later.
Several people have recommended that I continue writing about my everyday life. I may take them up on that. Since landing in America, I’ve had great human connections with people who have normal accents. And there’s always beauty to be found in the simple things of life. I don’t promise any eloquence or proper grammar, but written thoughts of my life’s happenings.
Goodbye for now,
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