The five-hour flight to Maple Ridge from the University was grueling. My flight was delayed for an hour due to the weather, then when I finally got onto the plane I got stuck between a jumpy woman on her first flight and an old man in his sixties whose snores could be heard throughout the whole northern hemisphere. And the cherry on top was when the airline informed me that my luggage was missing.

I begrudgingly left the airport and climbed into my grandfather's old truck empty-handed. “You didn't bring anything?” He asked, confused.

“They lost my luggage. The manager promised it would be settled shortly.”

“Knowing them, doubtful.” He sighs, “I'm sure your Grandmother will be able to find some stuff for you to wear for the week. Why don't you stay a little longer? Your break is another week, right?”  

“I'll think about it...” I say, knowing that my mind had been made up long before I arrived. I was going to spend as little time in this dead-end town as possible. 

The remainder of the car ride was silent so I slipped on my headphones, spending the rest of the car ride swiping on Cupid.

…

The car ride was a bore but we finally arrived back at the house.

“You're finally here, both of you. I was worried about the drive with the snow and all. You know that old truck isn't built for this weather anymore.” My grandmother says, walking over to us from the kitchen. “Jason, how was your flight?”

“Long, there was a lot of turbulence, and they lost my luggage.” I sigh.

“Oh dear, how did that happen? They're always messing up down there. Susan and I were just talking about how short-staffed they were the other day. She went on a trip with Herb a few weeks ago and their flight was delayed for three whole hours, can you believe that? It's ridiculous.”

“Honey, don't bore him with that nonsense, he's probably starving. He was just on a plane all day.” My grandfather chimes in. 

“Oh, you know how I ramble. Let me get you some chicken, it just came out of the oven. Then I'll look up in the attic for something warm for you to wear.”  

…

“These are all Christmas sweaters. Are you sure there's nothing else up there?” I ask.

“I'm afraid not. That’s all we have in your size. The rest of the clothes are all from when your dad was just a boy.” My grandmother sighs, “We'll go into town to get you some new clothes once the weather dies down, but there's no telling when that'll be. The weather station is unreliable nowadays.” 

“It's fine, I'm sure they'll find my luggage soon,” I say, lying to both her and myself.