This year I flew to Québec for my annual migration in June, the week before my 50th birthday. I took an 11:30 am flight instead of my usual 7 am departure time. I liked not getting up at the butt-crack of dawn, yet I felt I was imposing on my host for arriving so close to midnight. The flight was easy, only slightly delayed because of an electrical storm. It took a while for the baggage to make it onto the conveyor belt, something about not wanting the crew to be electrocuted while they were unloading everyone’s belongings. Safety and all that, n’est-ce pas?
This year I had the distinct pleasure of being picked up at the airport instead of catching a cab. Don’t get me wrong, cab rides can be quite enjoyable. Yet, there was something extra special having someone waiting for my arrival, and the hour-long drive to our destination was sprinkled with witty repartee, laughter, and comfortable silences. While I was staying in Saint-Ours, I would like to point out that I did not see any bears, sainted or otherwise.
We arrived at what was to be my home for the week, and I was quickly settled into bed — it was well past midnight when we pulled into the driveway. There was one small flaw in all the plans and preparations I had made for my trip: I forgot to disable the work alarm on my phone. Yup, you guessed it: my wake up tune warbled at 6 am, arrgh! I quickly silenced it, and then promptly turned over and went back to sleep.