Perspective
/One day this past summer, I was to pick up my parents from the airport after their two weeks of travel.
I raced to finish a chock full day to meet their six o’clock evening flight.
The rainy rush hour had the traffic wound up tight.
I turned on the radio and flipped through the stations and talked on the phone.
I arrived at the airport with time to spare and time to buy a chocolate bar. Going to the airport is like going to the movies for me. I have to buy some candy.
Standing at the arrivals, I looked down at my phone to realize I had a voicemail. It was my mom, letting me know they had missed their connection, and that they would be arriving four hours later at another airport!
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