UNATTENDED LUGGAGE AT LOGAN AIRPORT WILL BE CONFISCATED, EXAMINED BY BOMB-SNIFFING DOGS, BLOWN UP BY ROBOTS.
Before I left home to visit my ailing baby brother in the hospital in Boston I packed my suitcase and blue back pack.
In the back pack I put my laptop, wallet, passport, sunglasses, sheaf of essays to grade, phone with shattered face. Dave, the loving spouse, suggested I take the daughter’s social security card and birth certificate, as I would be seeing her.
I consider saying, “Is that safe? How can we trust me with them?” but it felt good to think I was trustworthy, so in they went.
Arriving at Logan I rushed to the Silver line bus stop, headed to the red subway line at South station. The bus arrived just as I did.
I was frantic to get to the hospital. My previously healthy littlest brother, couldn’t see, couldn’t walk. His malady was still undiagnosed, but they had begun a treatment called IVIG– which Wikipedia says is: “a blood product administered intravenously. It contains the pooled, polyvalent, IgG antibodies extracted from the plasma of over one thousand blood donors.”
I had missed the worst moments. He was on the upswing, well cared for by hospital and family. I needed to see him, to be a part of the healing process. Getting on the right bus was a relief. I felt lighter.
The bus was just leaving the last airport stop when I realized I did not have my back pack.
I walked back through no-pedestrian land, going through what I had in the my back pack. the laptop with latest version of my book, the passport – surely gone now. Emily’s birth certificate….
I imagined telling my students their papers were blown up by robots. Everyone gets an A.
A for absent minded.
Thirty minutes later I arrive back at the silver line stop. The blue back pack was lying on the sidewalk untouched, right where I left it, with all of its contents.
“It’s like hair” the nurse said. “It will grow, you will get better, but slowly.”
The “village” is organized here. A meal train made up to 12 neighbors and friends begins tomorrow, scheduled to deliver a meal a night. The cooler is outside the front door, ready to accept these gifts.