Followers

Sep 14, 2008

You Take the High Road and I'll Take the Low Road...

The neighbors (and sweet dear friends) across the road from me just got back from their vacation. (Insert jealous whiny sigh.) They came over with goodies and trinkets to calm my envious side. There were snuggley wooly things and good tasty things and lovely brochures and long involved descriptions of being sequestered on a bus with a flat tyre for four plus hours.
In the chill rain.
In the dark gloaming.
With about forty other travellers.
In downtown Edinburgh. (Insert another whine.)
They talked about their good natured bus driver who wore his kilt. And the people they were travelling with. A man from Pakistan. A Korean couple and Japanese folks. Sikhs with white turbans wrapping their heads. Ladies from South Africa. Just a melange' of different sightseers. And how it rained , drizzled, misted, dripped, and was just damp the entire time they were there and then later in the surrounding countryside. He spoke of lochs and mountains and odd television stations that only showed ten year old U.S. reruns. She talked of the grocery stores and a thrift store she had found with some treasures bought for me. (I'm feeling better now thank you.)
They seemed to have a most adventurous time. What with cars on the left side of the road. Roundabouts instead of traffic lights. Trying to decipher the thick accents and then be understood themselves. And about how nice everyone was. Helping them with the pounds and pence and minced beef (hamburgers).
Then it was talk of how good it was to be home. With their dogs and kittys and everyone so glad to have them home again. Safe.
Cause they flew home September 11th.
Coming from Glasgow to Amsterdam then back to our huge local airport. About how on the plane there were a group of women who were wearing small white flowers. And then how when asked, they stated it was a gift given to them on their previous flight. To remember the plane crashes that took so many lives. All the people from so many places around the world that were just innocents, in the wrong place at the wrong time. Taken from their loved ones by people who were willing to murder.
After admiring my goodies and having cake and ice cream just because (She brought it. She is like that, bringing homemade treats to share.) they walked back across the road. To their cozy home and sun slanting in the french doors. Cats and dogs greeting them.

And you want to know the best thing they brought me today?
Themselves. Home again, safe and sound.

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