Wait, I thought–you’re still here?
He commutes here once or twice a year from Sweden. I’ve never met his wife, although I’ve knitted her a scarf; I figure, when you live that near the Arctic Circle, a little warmth sent one’s way is always a good thing.
He was there in church last week, but then he was again today too. I did a doubletake. He’s like the Brigadoon of the ward, y’know? But two Sundays? He was talking to my husband and as I came up I overheard–oh of course. The volcano.
He had discovered Walmart, in answer to my asking. He’s close to our taller son’s size; if we’d known we could have given him some great hand-me-downs.
We offered him dinner any night every night any time till he can get a flight back out. He smiled, thanked us, and told us he had plans: his daughter was in college about 800 miles away and her semester was ending this week. If by then they were still grounded, he was going to take his rental car, go get her, and they would do the sightseeing road trip they could only otherwise have dreamed of ever having the time to do together.
“Vol,” French for “fly,” can? No. So. Don’t miss Carlsbad and the Grand Canyon on your way!