Reunion August 3, 2012 Love at Spokane Falls His connection’s too tight. He’ll miss the flight. He won’t arrive ‘til tomorrow. He’ll be dead-tired. Do I have to spend another night without him? Negative prattle skitters through my head en route to Spokane’s airport. It’s just past ten pm. After four-and-a-half months of separation (broken only by my six-day jaunt to New Zealand), Pete (the PAHT-nah) and I will reunite. My stomach flips as the black-heeled sandals I’ve chosen for the occasion clickety-clack the deserted tiled hallway of the main terminal. I’d gotten a text: “Hey babe. At LAX” hours ago, so I knew Pete made it to the US. Will I really see him? Will he really be here? After 17 Pete-less weeks, I was beginning to doubt his existence. Not because we didn’t message or talk online (we did – daily), but because I’d steeped in singledom so long. My six and eight-year-old dinner companions would inhale macaroni and cheese and sniff at salad before hurtli
When you look like your passport photo, it's time to go home. - Erma Bombeck