The w33kend.
So, my mother was coming back this weekend.
She was supposed to come back on Thursday, but the plane she was supposed to take from London to Djibouti threatened to explode in midair so they had to wait for the next plane that was coming the next day. Mom and all the other passengers set up camp in the middle of Heathrow, spreading a blanket and laying out food.
To get them off the ground and avoid the making of a scene, they bribed them with 50$ cheques and hotel reservations. Are there hotels in Heathrow?
Anyway, having taken the plane to Djibouti, they were stuck at the city airport just three hours away from Hargeisa, where we live. Three small planes picked them up from there to here, and my mother was, predictably, on the very last.
Having tricked and lied my way into the airport and reached the enclosure right next to the ground, all that remained was to wait. It was cool, the planes landing so close by. Your clothes almost fly off!
When my sister and mother came, I was... pretty happy. But mostly relieved that they weren't dead or whatever.
Though I was kinda worried about not recognising my sister's face when I saw her. Or rather, I couldn't fit the image of her in my mind with the way she looked when they got off the plane. I don't think she could recognise me either.
As soon as I picked her up, though, she began to remember me. I suppose that, after not seeing me for so long, she'd sort of put me in the back of her mind. After the first few days, I suppose I did the same. But now we're back together and equally annoyed with each other.
She's gotten heavy and stuff, also very healthy looking. But she's my sister. I'm glad to have her back.
She was supposed to come back on Thursday, but the plane she was supposed to take from London to Djibouti threatened to explode in midair so they had to wait for the next plane that was coming the next day. Mom and all the other passengers set up camp in the middle of Heathrow, spreading a blanket and laying out food.
To get them off the ground and avoid the making of a scene, they bribed them with 50$ cheques and hotel reservations. Are there hotels in Heathrow?
Anyway, having taken the plane to Djibouti, they were stuck at the city airport just three hours away from Hargeisa, where we live. Three small planes picked them up from there to here, and my mother was, predictably, on the very last.
Having tricked and lied my way into the airport and reached the enclosure right next to the ground, all that remained was to wait. It was cool, the planes landing so close by. Your clothes almost fly off!
When my sister and mother came, I was... pretty happy. But mostly relieved that they weren't dead or whatever.
Though I was kinda worried about not recognising my sister's face when I saw her. Or rather, I couldn't fit the image of her in my mind with the way she looked when they got off the plane. I don't think she could recognise me either.
As soon as I picked her up, though, she began to remember me. I suppose that, after not seeing me for so long, she'd sort of put me in the back of her mind. After the first few days, I suppose I did the same. But now we're back together and equally annoyed with each other.
She's gotten heavy and stuff, also very healthy looking. But she's my sister. I'm glad to have her back.