M-i-s-s-i-s-s-i-p-p-i

When we lived in the US we took many road trips over the river and through the woods to Grandmother’s house we go.  Kid middle and three grew up in the back seat of the van traveling when they were weeks to months old riding peacefully for the six to nine hours it took to drive from our house to the grandparents.  We traveled over the Mississippi river to get from here to there and the kids learned at a young age how to spell Mississippi and said it again and again as we drove over the bridge. 
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Fittingly then as we are here in India and we received the message that Grandpa is not well and wants to leave Florida where he and Grandma go for the winter to head back for Grandmother’s house they go.  His pulmonary fibrosis is getting the best of him lately and it has become increasingly difficult for him to breath.  His wishes are to go home to the mid-west and get some rest.  The three sons are doing their best to coordinate what they can and take as much stress off of Mom as possible.  Uncle one and Uncle three both flew to Florida to help with the journey while Mister has made arrangements to fly to the home state airport early next week.  One of the hazards of living overseas is we cannot all pile into the van and drive over the river and through the woods.  It is far too costly for all five of us to pile into an airplane.  So we sit and we pray and we cry and we wait for calls and we try to go about life as normal knowing that Grandpa is not well.  In the two days of travel thus far, Grandpa’s journey has taken him only as far as northern Mississippi.  He has needed to stop for a blood transfusion once and at another hospital he needed some antibiotics because of a high fever.  Still sitting in Mississippi and not even half way to home where Grandpa wants to rest.  As we cross this bridge I find myself mindlessly spelling.
M-i-s-s-i-s-s-i-p-p-i