Our plane (the fourth we’d been on this weekend) landed just after seven o’clock last night, and we’re back in Georgia. Whenever I get the chance, I’ll probably try to post some images from the wedding and from Indiana in general here. This is my first morning back in Georgia since Friday, so the rapidly changing sleep environment thing has made me forget what I dreamt about.
This weekend made me feel terribly old. We didn’t check any bags, so hauling all that crap down the narrow airplane aisle banged up my elbows and made me sore. Mary can’t really carry anything heavy, being pregnant, so I ended up hauling thirty pounds of her students’ papers for grading, twenty pounds of clothes, shoes, and toiletries, and ten pounds of miscellaneous junk on my shoulders through three airports and for what seemed miles and miles. My back and shoulders are sore. And I had to ride in the middle of the back seat two and a half hours from central Indiana to southern Indiana and two and a half hours back from southern Indiana to central Indiana; my joints are all sore. The good thing is that I’ve actually become sore enough that I’ll likely exercise more this week as penance. The bad thing is that I’ve become quite sore!
The wedding itself was quite nice; I’ll probably write about seeing family, talking with people, and other such things in subsequent posts. But being with Mom and Dad, knowing that Cindy Weaver died hardly a week before, has really shaken me up. I know that nothing is ultimately in my power, that my folks could live to ninety or live to sixty and I would have control over neither. But more than ever, I need to get away from the South. My own distaste for Georgia has not changed, but now Cindy’s death has added urgency to the pull towards family. Scott Weaver is movinig back to Indiana from Washington, D.C., but it doesn’t matter–he’s never going to be able to make trips to see his mother. I want to move before that happens. More later.