Lola Left

So Lola left to go back to the snow in the States today. She had been reminding everyone of this special day for the past week or two now...aka since she reached the halfway point of her trip. I don't blame her; she doesn't fly enough to be comfortable doing it. I kept reassuring her though that this would be the easiest thing she's ever done. I told her that someone would meet us at the airport with a wheelchair and another person would handle her bags. From there, she would have to do absolutely no decision making (besides how much to tip) because the porters would wheel her to wherever she needed to go in every airport in order to make sure she made it to her terminal on time. Not to mention she'd be given the luxury of cutting everyone in line since she has priority as a senior.

Before she left I must have heard her say that she is "going home on March 1st" around 20 times. I found that interesting. The "going home" part. I realize she does have a house there and while it's true she's lived most of her life in the States (40+ years of her 73), I wondered at which point do we reach where we no longer refer to our birth country- the place we grew up, met our SO, got married & had a couple of kids- as "home." I was pondering that notion for a bit while Lola was talking to someone about "home," when she turned to me and said something about us living in Chicago. 

Me: Well, we live in the Chicagoland area. When you travel it's just easier to say you live in Chicago because you won't meet many people who know Aurora.

Lola: Oookay. Yes. I just say we live in Chicago too. We live in Aurora. 

Me: Right.

-pause-

Lola: Is Aurora in Chicago?

One thing about Lola is that she will never fail to surprise. But all joking aside, watching her say goodbye to her oldest and last living sibling was hard to watch. It was such a private moment. My throat tightened as I resisted the thought of being in my 80s, hugging Olivia for what could very well be the last time I'd ever see her. (Sisters 4eva, Liv)

Lola and I held hands on the somber ride to the airport. Once we arrived (and after we waited in the car for a little bit), everything fell into place as I had told her. She had someone to push her in a wheel chair and someone to carry her things.

Lola at the airport, stylish as ever in her lipstick & crossword puzzle
leggings, donning her favorite pair of compression socks. 

She was so preoccupied with ensuring that things were in order, barking questions from her chair, that she forgot to kiss me goodbye.

It's okay, Lola. I guess I'll let it slide.