In true Latin America style, we flowed from city to city, plane to plane, with now worries.
And then along with 300 other flights, our flights were cancelled and the abrupt stop of the ease slapped me across the face like the below freezing winds of Chicago.
After being delayed ever 10 minutes for 3 hours, I had boarded my plane only to be told it was cancelled minutes before take off. I wasn’t even angry, I was just crushed, deflated, defeated.
All I have wanted for the past two weeks is to be home for Christmas and all that stood between me and that dream was 3 hours by car and one hell of a winter storm.
I wanted to punch the airline worker singing Jingle Bell Rock.But instead Mom and I got margaritas and chicken wings, checked into the Hilton across the street, to 12-hours of sleep and had my wonderful father come and pick us up in Chicago.
So now after 36 hours of travel, I home to a white Christmas.
After 6 months of travel, last days and long days and longer days I am finally home.
A miserably cold, snowy flat cow-invested place that I love and the perfect oplace for a welcome home Christmas.
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