I spent a summer as a college student in Europe studying art history and at the end of the term, I got stuck in Paris for two weeks because the plane that was supposed to take me home was grounded. Paris is a great place to be stranded, but after a week I was ready to see my family, and I was glad when I finally managed to reschedule my flight and let them know when I’d be back.
Somehow, a couple of days before I was due to fly out, I got wind of another seat on another flight taking off that afternoon. I packed, grabbed a taxi, and got to the airport just in time to board.
In that era before cell phones or the internet, I had no chance to let my parents know I’d be arriving two days early, and by the time the plane landed in my hometown, I’d decided to surprise them.
As I said, I enjoyed France, Italy, and Greece, all the places I’d traveled as a student, but it was wonderful to walk through our front door at dinner time, announced and escorted by our dogs, hearing my mother’s voice in the back, slightly raised as she told one of my brothers, “go see who just came in.” It was wonderful to smell dinner being cooked as I walked towards our back patio and stepped out into the start of a long, velvety Louisiana dusk. But best of all was the way my father’s face lit up as he rose from his favorite chair on the patio, threw open his arms and sang out my name.
Pam Troy 