Surprising Katy


A couple weekends ago, thanks to the help of Jill, Marty and, especially, Andy, I did something I’ve always wanted to do—I left Fort Thomas at 7am (by myself) and drove to Winston-Salem, NC, to surprise my sister with a weekend visit.

It was so strange, to stop for breaks and simply walk out of the car, without negotiating, unbuckling, unstrapping, pulling out, carrying, adjusting, talking to, singing to, running after, laughing with anyone. I missed it. And enjoyed it.

When I got to Katy’s school, she was working at her desk, waiting for her husband, Tom, to finish up football practice (he’s the junior high coach). I stood at the door to her classroom for a minute or two, just watching. I had never seen it before. Never seen her in that environment. I was a bossy kid. When we played school as children, I was always the teacher. She was always the student. (Now I couldn’t imagine teaching 30+ kids.)

Finally, I yelled, Surprise! She cried. I cried. As should happen in the best surprises.


Here’s her classroom.





The next day, after a glorious eight hours of sleep, I helped Katy and Tom register at Babies R Us. Then we met Katy’s very good friend Kim, her husband Don and their adorable son Max, at the Lexington Barbecue Festival.


Katy, Tom, and Brees (Baby Rees to be!)






The next day we met their good friend Steve for lunch at Mellow Mushroom in the American Tobacco Historic District.



Then we visited my good friends Matt and Christi, and finally got to meet their new son, the adorable Quinn.


It was such a fun visit. And went by so fast. I miss her so, so much. Especially on weekends—specifically Sunday afternoons. I just feel like that is when we’d spend time with each other, shopping, watching a movie, getting ice cream. But for three short days I got that, complete with staying up way past our bedtimes, in pjs, on the living room couch, slap-happy from laughing so much.

“You keep your past by having sisters. As you get older, they’re the only ones who don’t get bored if you talk about your memories.” —Deborah Moggach