So, yesterday I was dropping my mom off at the airport. Always a big, tight hug and many "I will miss you's." And the waving until you cannot see each other anymore. I helped with her heavy bags because I can. So, I do it even though she begs me not to. I refuse to be fragile, so I'm not. Lord, I just chased Willa (our corgi) all over the backyard to get her in before it started raining again. Um, Corgis are herding dogs, so I had to lower my center of gravity and broke right and left until we both broke into the same direction and I nabbed her. Victory!
Anyway, that was a digression..
Back at the airport, the waving was done and I was taking the north exit and came upon a rather enticing grassy area right next to one of the terminals that had a big yellow street sign that read "RELIEF AREA."
I thought, perfect! My back is killing me from the ever so delightful twisting and pulling that Spasmodic Torticollis has so kindly offered up to me. So, I pulled over.
A little relief park. Maybe my pain would lessen even though I don't fight with the pain, so if it didn't go away I would not hold it against my body.
So, I sat for a bit. Watched some VERY large planes take off. I got a few stares from people driving by.
I felt relief just from reclining in the grass and listening to those powerful sounds that planes make when taking off or flying low overhead.
Yeh, the Relief Area is where doggies (probably kitties, too) get to pee or do ye olde #2. I knew that (just in case you have been thinking I was clueless about what that sign meant).
I had scoped out whether any "relief" had occurred in the area where I would lay down.
I was in the clear.
I just liked being in a place called the Relief Area.
(picture is of Lincoln Hartmann peeing in the snow-his first snow)