Pick up and delivery

We land in Cairo with out incident. My knee is throbbing a bit but so what? It's been in an uncomfortable position for over 10 hours. Cairo airport does not have "jet ways" to connect from the plane to the airport. There are stairs from the plane to the runway and a bus taking passengers to the terminal.

Entering the terminal is a breeze....literally. Cool air hits you as soon as the door opens; it feels wonderful! The visa for Egypt is purchased at the bank and I make change to Egyptian pounds. Once that's accomplished it's off to the passport check in. Surprisingly the line moves rapidly and I'm through in no time. Baggage Claim follows. As all baggage claims carrousel's  people are pushing their way in towards the conveyor belt...they are packed in so tightly people have a difficult time removing their bag when they see it. And I don't see mine...bags go around for the second time and start on the their third pass-by all of the sudden a few bags are added; my two are among them and easily dragged off the belt.

Initially I thought the taxi driver would be waiting in the baggage area. When he wasn't I inquired and was directed to the waiting area. I was delighted to see a young man holding a "Susan Johnson" sign!  Mohammad was as happy to see me as I was him. Mohammed, get me out of here and on my way. When the door to the outside was opened it felt as though we were walking into an oven it was so hot!

Airports have never been a favorite place for me. When I was about eleven I was sent to visit "friends" in Washington DC. I had no idea what they looked like...they had a daughter a year older than I was. They had lived near from to us in Chattanooga and for some reason I was being sent there.

The summer had been hot and a bit confusing. Dur, my grandmother was sick; spending most of her time in bed. She still smelled of Gardenias and gave me wonderful smiles...the gold on her teeth sparkling and would give me change for treats. She didn't wear her silky dresses that were so cool, smooth and comforting to touch.

Her bedside table continued to hold a white glass hobnailed lamp, aspirin-gum and her change purse...now there were also medications in various containers and a glass of water.

I knew she was very sick...once I saw John lift her so Mama could change the square sheet under her; it was soiled. The skin on her legs hung loosely, especially her thighs; I could even see her bones. The skin on her arms was also loose and flabby but most of the time her arms were covered by a bed jacket. What was wrong I didn't know but I was sure the medicine would make her better.


One day I was packed up and sent to Washington DC. There was no reason to afraid of flying, I was lucky to have the opportunity; but what about when I get there? Again fear was foolish. The people I was staying with would meet me. They remembered me from when they lived in Chattanooga.
Don't be foolish, there's no reason to be afraid. They did meet me and all went OK except often I wanted to go home and even more often thought of Dur.

The day I was to leave the woman told me Dur had died while I was with them. She hadn't told me because she didn't want to spoil my good time. I was in shock, numb, certain she was wrong. I flew home and don't remember Dur being mentioned. I decided she wasn't dead...she was living with my Uncle. My sister also lived there so she was able to see my new nephew. I talked to her, confiding in her as I'd always done and continued asking for comfort and love.

When I was 14 we unexpectedly moved to Philadelphia. Naturally my parents wanted to visit my sister and the new grandson. My myth of Dur living in Pleasantville had to draw to a close. I looked everywhere for her and then had to accept she was gone. It was my fault! Had I stayed home she would have been OK.

Airports bring back hurtful, sad memories and I have such a difficult time in them!