I try and speak to my dad every day. It’s not easy. His ability to hear over the phone changes from day-to-day.
“You know,” he’s said a few hundred times, “I don’t hear so well.”
It’s a speedbump, not a roadblock.
“Geoffrey, I’m doing something I’ve never done before,” he said yesterday. “I’m packing.”
Since the Navy, my mom and then Lena took care of this task. I understand how it feels to be spoiled. I relate.
I told him to pack for warm-to-cool. He’ll be fine. “Worst comes to worst you’ve got Costco,” he assured me.
He flies in Sunday. It’s the only direct flight from Milwaukee to Orange County. They stop in San Francisco, but he stays onboard.
My dad walks fine. The trip through security to the gate is near his limit. He will take advantage of the curb-to-plane-to-curb wheelchair service airlines must provide by law.
Part of my goal here is to help him get a little stronger. Circumstances have kept him sedentary. A little walking will go a long way. Our weather is salubrious.
I told him Helaine baked chocolate chip cookies. “I told everyone here she would,” he said with a smile in his voice.
He’s excited. I’m excited.