I had never experienced the situation before...

...and quite frankly, outside of the movies, I don't think I had heard of anyone else who had.

When the ticket agent turned to his superior and said, "Can you take a look at Pam Ledbetter's account?" all the blood drained from my head. Then it miraculously returned and caused my ears and cheeks to burn. Physically, my body was freaking out. But mentally, I thought, "Oh, it's nothing. I'm sure that since I booked the tickets with my Advantage Miles, there was simply some sort of confirmation process."

Indeed, there was a necessary confirmation. Two weeks prior. I'd missed it.

And now I had no ticket.

The short story is that I neglected to confirm that the ticket my mother had on hold should be "purchased" using my miles. The long story involves a journey of introspection in which I consider my irresponsibility in light of the reality that I was attempting to visit my grandmother (again, with whom I proudly share many traits), who is plagued by Alzheimer's. Yeah, that's where my thoughts went.

I was mortified. I was embarrassed. I was looking (hesitantly) into the eyes of two parents who, despite my shortcomings, appeared to forgive me and proceed to determine the next course of action.

I was able to secure a seat on the next flight (again, it's Spring Break...there were, by the love of God, actually 2 available seats on that flight, which was AMAZING). And while I called my dear friend, Bonnie (a hardworking gate agent for American), to come to my rescue, she was able to bump me up to 5th instead of 14th on Stand-by and upgrade my parents to 1st class. That made me feel better that they at least flew comfy, despite all the frustrations I had caused. I wasn't able to fly standby on their flight, and I sat/walked in the airport for 2 1/2 hours until my flight.

I won't attempt to describe the thoughts in my head during those 2 hours. Understand, though, that I have an extreme respect for individuals who suffer from mental disorders. Knowing where my hormones take me in depressed states...I cannot fathom the pain that some people feel when they cannot control their thoughts or emotions.

The flight to Newark was the longest I had flown since last March's trip to England, when I was threw up in the barf bag as the wheels touched down in London. Praise God, this flight was a breeze, and my only complaint was that they waited 1 1/2 hours to let us out of our seats...I had to tinkle. I arrived in Newark Airport to see parents relieved to have me there safely. What more could I have asked for? Their graciousness was overwhelming, and much like the grace of God, caused me to love them more and yearn to please them. I was very humbled.

Our plans for that evening were obviously changed, so we headed straight to the hotel in Bridgewater to get some rest for the big day tomorrow. After breakfast Saturday (nothing like a delicious omelette with tomatoes and ham...), we stopped by Home Depot for boxes and packing supplies. I was pleased to have a project when we entered the house.

As we drove to my Grandparents' home, I considered the likelihood that I would remember any sights along the way. Most of my memories were stored up in that house. When we drove around their town, I was often too concerned with laughing with my cousins in the car (while not disturbing Grandpa's driving) to be bothered with the scenery outside the windows.

I did recall the Buddhist temple that sat at the end of the hill at the bottom of their road. It was huge and stood out like a...giant Buddhist temple. We turned up the hill, and I could feel my skin getting warmer. You know that feeling that fills you when you've walked through the doors of family's house at Christmas? Everyone is there and excited to see you, and you can't wait to put on sweatpants and crazy socks and just sit around the house? It's warm and smells good, and there are happy sounds everywhere?

When we pulled up the gravel driveway of that wonderful home, the sound of rocks under our tires was like a beautiful symphony. I knew that pulling around the corner to the garage would mean walking into my past, my dad's past, my family's past.

I didn't want to risk being disappointed, but I couldn't help but think that I would be desperately looking to see a certain three things as we rounded that corner...