Don't we all love weekends, especially Fridays? Fridays hold such a great appeal, poised on the edge of greatness. Greatness comes in all forms.
Beautiful Fall afternoons spent at the park with Hayden, Mr. Potts, a blanket & a secret carry case of wine. Rainy Sundays cozied up under a fuzzy blanket watching movies. Cool Friday evenings with our favorite carry out. Late Saturday afternoon drinks on an open patio with friends. Greatness in some of its many forms.
Thinking about all the fabulous times that Mr. Potts and I have shared made me a bit nostalgic. It could also have something to do with a long 4+ hour drive from Burlington, VT to Portland, ME. It could be riding the escalator down to the baggage claim at the Charlotte airport and remembering one of my favorite memories with Mr. Potts.
Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that we're coming up on our first wedding anniversary. In a little over two weeks we'll have been married a year.
So, switching up my Fabulous Friday just a bit, I thought I'd share this fabulous memory of Mr. Potts. It's one of my favorites, but also one of my first.
The Background
I used to travel a LOT for my job. It was so bad that the joke of my department was that I was on the road 54 weeks of the year. Get it? Not funny. It was heartbreakingly exhausting.
Mr. Potts and I started dating while I was still with that job. I was gone during the week & home on weekends. It may have actually been a good thing, since we were able to get to know each other without becoming that annoying couple that is always together.
The Trip
It was winter and I had been somewhere cold. I remember that it was a cold trip since I had checked my luggage. Now, most of you may not know this, but I am the queen of packing for a trip. I’m also the queen of the airport – at least in my own head.
I know how to navigate through security without holding people up. I pack a little pair of socks to slip on so I don’t have to walk barefoot. I know which places take Am Ex so I can get a snack to bring on the plane.
I also know how to pack so that I never have to check luggage, unless I’ll be gone for a while to a cold location & will need heavy sweaters & a big coat. That practically guarantees I’ll be checking luggage.
This is how I know it was a winter trip. I was exhausted. I had flown somewhere the beginning of the week, worked my tail off, worked at night and then flown home on a Friday afternoon flight.
Mr. Potts and I had plans for the weekend. Nothing big, still low-key (remember, we’d just started dating). I called him when I was getting ready to depart to let him know I was leaving. “Sounds good,” he probably said, “Call me when you land.”
Inevitably, my flight was delayed. As it always is when its winter & you’re flying later in the day. We circled. And circled some more. Finally, we landed. About 2 hours later than scheduled. Exhausted, I called Mr. Potts to let him know I had landed.
I made my way through the crowds (I can navigate those also – always gracious when people cut me off or stop right in front of me for no reason) to the escalator to claim my bag.
As the escalator takes me down to the baggage claim I see Mr. Potts standing there. Waiting for me. With a bouquet of flowers. I think I may have cried, but only because I was so tired, you know.
He told me that he had missed me. He told me he wanted to make me smile in the airport. He told me he knew I’d be tired and wanted to give me a hug as soon as possible.
I knew I had something special standing in front of me and that I had better not mess it up.
Love you Mr. Potts!
New Orleans picture - Mr. Potts' first trip.
