Memory Can Be Fickle

   Earlier this year my husband was sent to France for three weeks for work. This is not normal for us.

We are not a wealthy, fancy family but it was cool that he got to go. He did not enjoy himself but did

find pizza and fried chicken to eat so that he didn't have to try any world class cuisine. Whew!

    He called us a few times and that was nice. He did get to spend Father's Day touring Paris so at

least he got that much culture.

   There was a day that my boys and I were out and about and Adam said to me "I miss dad, he was

funny." I explained that Dad did not die but woud be home in a matter of days. This recieved no more

discussion so I guess that he believed me.

   Eventually we went to the airport to pick him up when he was returned to us. As we got out of our

van at the airport one of the boys told me that he hoped that Dad remembered how to speak English

so that we could talk to him. I told them that we had talked to him on the phone and that we knew that

he still spoke English. They seemed to recall this important fact.

   As we were waiting to see my husband walk through the doors after getting off his plane Drew had

a thought. "I forgot what Dad looks like." Oh man...he was gone for three weeks! So every so often I

would pick out the occassional random person and ask Drew "Is that your dad?" to which he would

always respond "No." Little old ladies could've been his dad in disguise, I had to be sure so I asked

the question.

   Finally he walked off the plane and the boys saw him and that was that. They climbed him like a

tree and I was so busy being happy that I forgot to take a photo but I keep that scene in my heart.