sororal situations

Thinking ahead to the road trip to scatter our parents, I texted Good Sister to ask which is her favorite DC-area airport, seeing as how she's lived there for a while now. There are three to choose from – DCA*, IAD, and BWI – and I've only ever used the first.

She said first choice is DCA followed by IAD, however, she'll have to go to Gainesville, FL to pick up Mom's remains; I have a dim memory of her saying that the US Postal Service refuses to (knowingly) transport human remains. This may mean that I have to fly to Florida to meet her, and we'll drive to Virginia from there. I'm not crazy about that idea because

1. Fuck my home state and its current fascist government.
2. I don't relish the longer drive, even with my sister whom I haven't seen in person in at least four years.
3. That longer drive takes us through much of the length of Georgia, which has been a scary place for a long time.

The irony here is that the drive from Gainesville to the Blue Ridge was a joyous one when we were children: there were grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, and mountains at the end of it, and possibly that exotic phenomenon, snow.

And my whole immediate family showed up in the dream I just woke up from. Mom, lucid and standing with me and Good Sister. Mom asked me, "Why do you tell [GS] all this?"
"Because she's up here** and she speaks to me," I replied. I could see through some kind of joint in a partition that Evil Sister was watching me. For a split second, we made eye contact. She looked much younger than she is.
After Mom, GS, and I walked our separate ways, ES caught me in a hallway and hugged me. She was wearing something funky, with lots of brightly colored details; no one in my family has ever dressed like that. I cried in the dream, and I woke up crying. I blame last night's estrogen shot.



*I will not use the current official name of DCA.
**In the way of dreams, we were all living in the same general area. That hasn't been true in at least forty years.