The Big Sound of a Small Voice

June 2, 2009 at 1:50 am (Sweet sticky things)

Sometime you just have to sit back, take a deep breath, and thank the powers that be.

Mizelle and The Frenchman have talked of moving to France for the past couple of years. His family owns a vineyard and he is the heir-apparent. We met for dinner last week, hung out like always, had a lovely visit. They hadn’t decided if they were going as a family, or if The Frenchman would go alone and Mizelle and baby would follow. Lily is a year old now, sporting three teeth and walking, albeit like she’s consumed a jug of burgundy. It’s a juggling act timewise, and they were still putting things in order. I’ve known this was coming, and while I would miss them terribly, it wouldn’t be the first time Mizelle has wandered off for years at a time. I would make do. All I knew is she may or may not go, but The Frenchman had to leave around the first of the month.

I awoke to “Breaking News!” this morning. An Air France jetliner had disappeared off the radar after leaving Rio de Janiero. Authorities expected the worst. No word of any Americans on board.

I didn’t think too much about it. Certainly there are lots of flights to France; what would the odds be? Regardless, I was a little worried, so I sent Mizelle an e-mail: “Indulge my inner Grandma. Let me know y’all are okay?” I threatened to flood her voicemail box if I didn’t hear something soon.

By early evening I had heard nothing, so I took a break from work and called. Mizelle picked up. “Well, hello. What do you want?”

“Oh nothing. Just checking up on you…”

“What, you think we were on that plane? Nah. Thank you though, for thinking of me as such a jet-setter. I’d love to go to Paris via Rio someday.”

“So everyone is fine, everyone’s in town? You’ll call me if you’re around this weekend?”

“Of course I will.”

“Give the baby and the old man a hug for me, will you? Gotta get back to work.”

“Will do.”

We rang off, and I told Pan and Whitney that all was well. (They’d hung around in case the news wasn’t so good.) Finally, I could focus on work. As I was about to get to it, my phone rang. Mizelle was on the Caller ID.

“Hello?” I responded.

I heard a “Blah-blah-blabbity blab blab,” and realized Mizelle had called back and handed the phone to Lily, who was giving me a lecture about being a silly old man who worries too much about things I can’t control. Then she told me goodnight. (At least that’s what I took from all that “Blah-blah-blabbity blab blab.”) It was a sweet gesture, and made my night.

I can’t help feeling like I dodged a bullet, and I’m so glad I checked up on them. It’s times like these I feel so small, then I think of the even smaller one whose tiny bits of baby-talk were like screams of happiness in my ear.

Big hugs to all of you tonight.

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1 Comment

  1. Grandpa's tighty whiteys said,

    phew!

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