Last Two Dollars

The only thing more exhausting than visiting 10 countries in five days is visiting one country in thirty.  My trip to the USA was stuffed like my suitcase, bursting at the seams, starting in Sturgeon Bay, Wisconsin, a mere 7589 miles from Kunming, China to finalize my divorce.

No happy endings, but I do get my maiden name back-and my husband’s lawyer has temporary custody of my seven foot marlin. (Don’t ask).

But I will be staying Mrs. Mac in the classroom as Mrs. Sin will not play well at a faith based school. And I did pass up the doggy chewy toy sold in front of the Trump tower.

But God must have known about the date of this hearing before he hung the stars.  The very night the judge pounded his gavel, my gang of high school girl friends had a sleep over in Michigan –a drive almost as daunting as my flight.  It was a scene out of a hallmark movie, four of my classmates till married to their prom dates, our conversations starting where they left off years ago, as we passed glue sticks and made scrap books.

All the spinach Popeye ate couldn’t supply me the strength that get together did.

Laura, the sage member of our band of sisters, recalled  seeing our faces outside of the church when her father died in during the eight grade then seeing the same faces years later when her mother passed.

I didn’t want to think whose funeral we’d attend next.

I kept cruising through Michigan, one of the only places on the planet with roads worse than Loas. I visited family and friends, llamas in Indiana, WWII vets and former work colleagues in Chicago, and emerging female artists  at the Women Made Gallery in Pilsen.  I love the honey bear in the space helmet.

Finally, I made it to my old stomping grounds at Jesus People in Uptown.

“Don’t mind the police.” a friend said with a hug. “Shootings have been way down this year.”

I sampled some  honey harvested at Uptown Apiary, which surprisingly tasted the way the Body Shop smells, not like crime and gunpowder.

I spent a few minutes with a Texan Belle named Brenda, who had a jewelry box with more rings than Saturn.

“Take one and think of me, sweetheart.”

“Really?”

I picked a thin band with a squiggly design. After putting on my cheaters, I realized it said, YESTERDAY.

A perfect replacement for a wedding band.

I asked questions to a Holocaust survivor at the Holocaust Memorial in Skokie and talked to my grandmother at my family’s cemetery in the orchards of Michigan (she didn’t answer back) . This tombstone is of a distance cousin who died of appendicitis in the days before penicillin.

I attended a graduation party where Alexia was the annoying recalculating recalculating recalculating DJ.

Favorite meals included bread that actually tasted like bread and bottles of wine that had corks instead of screw caps, salads where I didn’t fear getting the giardia parasite plus ho-made strawberry waffle shortcake from Mrs. Bohn, who I haven’t seen since high school.

I visits to bankers, played phone tag with friends, and finally met my tenant whose mother thinks my condo is haunted by a ghost, hence his reason to move out.

But the last stop on my trip was Madison, Wisconsin for an international instructor conference put on by WIDA.  I took the mega bus back to Chicago, sitting next to a teacher from Shanghai who is originally from Sturgeon Bay where my adventure began.

You got to be kidding me.

“I miss the smoked trout pizza at Northern Grill” she said. “I worked there in the summer.”

“Where are you headed in Chi-town?”

“Lincoln Park.”

“Me too. We can take the L.”

I swiped my fare care for her and she repaid me with two bucks, the only American cash I had.

I got off  at Belmont only to see a familiar smile. It was Robert, a panhandler  from my Jesus People Cooking Days, who would parade around the lobby in hot pants. “If your legs are this good looking at my age, you would, too!” Robert would laugh. He sold trinkets in Wrigleyville, from glittery American flags to Mardi Gras beads.

Robert smiled, his teeth weathered by living outside on a diet of tobacco and soup kitchen coffee.

“Are you still at Jesus People?”

“No, I’m at a man’s shelter down town.”

I gave him my last two dollars.

He gave me the smile I needed.

I returned to China without a penny in my pocket.  Just a mind packed with memories.