Fly Away Home

After someone left handprints (well fingerprints) somewhere other than my arse, and they were not using fingerpaint, I did what any self-respecting woman would do. I called home, crying, and talked to my parents who made arrangements for me to fly home early for Christmas. I desperately needed to be around people who would make me feel safe again, who would keep my mind occupied by things other than what had occurred, and who would not make me feel judged. Now before you picture a Norman Rockwell painting, my family could probably win the Dysfunctional Family Olympics even without bringing along the off-shoots of the family tree. But we do crap well - we are used to pulling ourselves together to take care of one another when the crap comes. And we seem to find crap as regularly as rain in the rainforest. Hence the rubber boots...now the white coats are another story. So anyway, I managed to sneak in on one of the last flights before it started to snow. It snowed, and snowed, and snowed. And then, just for fun, it snowed some more. I think we ended up with close to a foot of snow on the ground and a few inches inside my boots. I would like to thank God for going to all that trouble to create such a beautiful welcome home for me, I mean the biggest single day snowfall in years is quite an honorable welcome. However, God, next time could you remind my brother not to drop his ginormous wet boots on top of my very cute new red shoes? The sweet new ones I just bought and wore once before bigfoot's boots made them into a soggy, dirty mess? Thanks. Please feel free to stick that memo to his forehead. Oh, and also could you remind my adorable nephew that if you hit your aunt in the face with a snowball there will be retaliation? Once is funny but then hitting me again while I am still blind from the first one...that is just wrong. But please don't warn him until I exact revenge. Thanks. Amen. This is the best treatment a girl could find for a bruised soul and a shaken mind. Family, snow, hot chocolate, sweet innocent children (well, maybe not so sweet and innocent - you will pay my pretty...you will pay) who are excited to play in the snow and get ready for Christmas, and the magic of the Holiday season. Most of all, wherever I am I have some of the most beautiful little handprints on my heart. And my sweaters, and my jeans, and tiny little fingerprints that refuse to wash off my glasses.....