Service

If I was writing a story then the struggle to part in the degaulle airport, as the efficient Swiss seek to whisk Doris onto the plane ( The others can’t board until she has boarded!!!!) giving Bonnie and I no time to say goodbyes gains the emphasis, the proper final note. (It is fitting to say that as with all miscalculated efficiencies, these actions taken by the airport personal actually used up more time. Not allowing for the individual nature of the people they were dealing with and in particular the violent and self centered nature of Doris, they were forced to bring her back from the very brink of boarding, in order for her to say goodbye to me, thus completely delaying what they were so carelessly trying to expedite.)

But if I were to deal entirely with the nature of service and the things people owe to one another and the kindnesses and rewards we can bestow, I would have to dwell in the tips Bonnie gave to the staff, the final food left for the cats and the final gesture of the Marrakech airport attendant, Mohammed, who lifted Doris out of her wheelchair and carried her up the boarding steps. I was totally shocked by this action, took full advantage of it but was struck by the fact it was more then I was really willing to do myself and how much it cost me to watch. It was a man’s solution, a father’s solution, Doris held childlike in Mohammed’s arms. It was perhaps the solution we all want at one time or another, to be held in strong arms, born over our obstacles, taken care of as a child, delivered safe to our seat and tucked in.