So, to get home I had to switch planes in Minneapolis, Minnesota. Some of you may or may not know that I recently graduated from college in Minneapolis (Saint Paul, really, but basically the same thing) neighboring Saint Paul, Minnesota, which is not at all the same as Minneapolis, being much cooler and filled with much nicer people and generally 10x as awesome in every way.* And as we landed around 8:30 last night, and we were flying low over the cities and there was the Mississippi laid out beneath me–well, I got a little bit sad. Nostalgic. This had been my home for four years, and now it was just a stopping point.
As I was walking from gate G-whatever to gate G-whatever, I heard my name. “Grace!”
At least, I thought I did. I tend to think that every one-syllable word with a long A sound, especially if shouted, is my name. But I looked around, and I saw–
One of my best friends waving at me as the moving walkway whisked him away.
I caught him, of course, and we had a cozy little reunion in the airport while we waited for our flights. I kept wanting to reach out and poke him, to make sure he was really there.
I mean, really, was that crazy lucky or what? If we’d been in different gates, or if one of us had walked at a slightly different speed, or if he had had his head turned in a slightly different direction… wow. Thanksgiving FTW.
So that is this year’s story of thanksgiving. (dude, my favorite holiday rocks.) May yours be just as wonderful. Happy Thanksgiving everyone!
*edited to more accurately represent the facts