Fly Away Home
A memoir about the ups and downs in life and the back and forth travels of a multicultural family.

MICHELE

This is a preview to the chapter MICHELE from the book Fly Away Home by Maggie Myklebust.
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Happy is the bride the sun shines on, and on that crisp, clear, autumn day as my father walked me down the aisle, I was truly happy. We said our “I do’s” at Good Shepherd Lutheran church in Point Pleasant, the same church my parents were married in and where I was baptized and confirmed. Ellen was my maid of honor and Goog the best man. The reception was held at The Homestead Restaurant in Spring Lake, where our one hundred guests could choose from either the prime rib of roast beef, or the stuffed chicken dinner and, of course, there was an open bar. For me the day was almost perfect, Tony had insisted on wearing a black shirt with his black tux and a top hat, which made him look like he was in mourning rather than in love. My father paid for everything except the band. Tony’s family hired them, and to my dismay they played Frank Sinatra’s The Lady is a Tramp as Tony and I shuffled around the dance floor.

With only a few days for a honeymoon, it was a toss-up between the heart-shaped bathtubs in the Pocono Mountains or the revolving dining room, high above Niagara Falls. Wanting to get as far away as possible I chose Niagara Falls, the Canadian side. With little time, we took the Maid of the Mist boat tour, which sailed through a dense mist of spray inside the curve of the Horse Shoe Falls. We visited the Ripley’s Believe It or Not Museum and enjoyed a delicious dinner on top of the Skylon Tower, 160 meters up over the colorfully lit Falls. The next day we headed back to New Jersey to start our new life, as man and wife. “If I have to continue working, can I at least look for a new job?” I asked Tony one night, after we’d gone to bed.

“Why, what’s wrong with the job you have?” he asked, surprised.

“I hate coming home smelling like hamburgers everyday and I hate wearing a uniform! I want to get a job where I can dress nice, like maybe in a clothes store…” I was cut off before I could even finish.
“No, you’re staying right where you are. I don’t want you working any nights or weekends.”

“What if I can find a job where I only work weekdays?” I asked hopefully.

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"Very touching life story that comes full circle! A great read for anyone who has lived abroad. Couldn't put the..."

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