Tomorrow morning when the sun is not yet seen my husband will drop my daughter and I off at Portland International airport. By day's end, we ought to be in the southern region of the United States. Specifically, we ought to be walking the ground of Montgomery, Alabama.My nearly 97-year old grandmother, affectionately known as Mimi, passed away a few days ago. My mother has told my sister and I that when this day would come that we must pack our bags and head south to hold her hand and help her bury her mother. My sister and I grew up in the west so we have only a handful of memories of our mother's mother. We've been to Alabama only a few times and have met on such occasions relatives and cousins from my mother's side of the family.
When the news came that Mimi had breathed her last, I asked my children if they wanted to go help pay their respect. My son, nearly 14, predictably said, "I'm sorry she's passed, but it's ok. I'd rather stay home." He hasn't a single memory to hang on to of her so I did not press it. Besides, the last thing I want is to be couped up in a hotel room with a scowling adolescent boy who just doesn't see the value in sitting around the kitchen table and swapping stories.
