was convincing myself as much as her. “Besides, I don’t have to decide immediately. I can fly out there now and look things over without making any commitment.”
She grudgingly gave me her approval for the potential move, and I bit my tongue to keep from reminding her I didn’t need her approval.
Michael, my middle child, was as interested in my big news as he ever is in anything that doesn’t directly affect him. He’s not exactly selfish ; I like to think he’s simply extremely self-involved. Even that’s wrong. He concentrates so fully on whatever he’s tuned in to at the moment that he often appears disinterested in the rest of the world. Believe me, it’s easier that way. When he turns his mental beam at you, it can be scary.
“Tell you what, Ma,” he informed me. “I can put off the trip to the rain forest if you want and come help you out. I’d like to have a look at the area, anyway.” He is deeply involved in the environmental woes of the world, spending all of his free time visiting trouble spots, or protesting somewhere about something. When he thought of it, he left me vague e-mail messages of where he’d be: Off to Peru. Back around August. I no longer allow myself to worry too much about him. It is just too hard on the nerves.
“No, go ahead with your plans,” I hurriedly told him. “It’s an opportunity of a lifetime.” It was with a University-sponsored group, and I was hoping, in my optimistic, motherly fashion, that the college connection would ensure his safety. “Besides,” I added. “I think I’ve committed myself to trying the shop for at least a year before I make any permanent decisions. You can visit next winter during your vacation and do some cross-country skiing if you want.” The bribe would at least keep him in the country. Last winter he’d gone to Russia to study pollution problems.
Danny, my baby, was as indifferent about the whole matter as he was about everything else in life. Once assured his precious “things” would remain intact until he claimed them for good (I still have some of Molly’s school stuff in boxes in the closet) his opinion was “the whole thing should be good for you . ” When questioned about exactly what he meant, he explained how I was in a rut and “this should shake you out of it.” I let it pass without comment, for although I’m a firm believer my children are entitled to their own opinions, I’m also a firm believer I’m entitled to mine, even if I don’t always voice them.
Then, of course, there was the phone call to inform my mother that my inheritance hadn’t exactly been some “little personal memento.” It didn’t take a psychic to realize she was very indignant on the behalf of my siblings. To give credit where credit is due, she did manage to congratulate me. But then she made several snide comments about “that crazy Josie.” I allowed her to rant and rave for several minutes before reminding her I was running up my phone bill and hanging up.
So, the looking-the-situation-over trip more or less blessed by all, and being out of excuses to put off an initial visit, I headed eastwardly.
And a blizzard.
A March blizzard in Minnesota is hardly an unusual occurrence. All the same, I did not enjoy climbing on the second plane in Minneapolis, and hearing the smug announcement from the stewardess that it was one of the last flights before they considered closing down the airports further east. As it happened, we were racing the storm. The small plane I climbed aboard was not comforting. The trip was bumpy, to say the least. My usual pleasure in flying was not reinforced, although the pilot assured us the blizzard had not really arrived yet, and certainly wasn’t threatening us at the moment. I realized I’d been away from the North Country too long. It looked like a blizzard to me and despite the