Free Mother of Prevention by Lori Copeland

fifteen minutes. The boarding gate was F12.
    The three of us broke into a trot when we cleared security and headed for the assigned gate. I lugged a heavy shoulder bag and my purse, Kelli had her backpack and Kris pulled a small overnighter behind her. Threading our way through the teeming crowd, we sprinted toward the gate with five minutes to spare.
    Passengers were on their feet studying their boarding passes when we arrived. It looked to be a full flight this morning.
    A woman’s voice came over the PA. “Passengers on flight 224 to San Francisco—there has been a gate change. That flight will now be boarding from gate F3.”
    “F3,” I told the girls. I picked up the heavy shoulder bag, and we set off for the eight-gate jaunt.
    Breathless, we arrived a few minutes before the other passengers. Kelli peeled out of her backpack and let the canvas sink to the tiled floor. I set the shoulder bag down and rubbed my aching shoulder. An old rotator cuff injury had flared up.
    “Mommy, are we going to eat breakfast on the plane?”
    “Kelli, there are no meals on shorter flights. Didn’t you eat a bowl of cereal this morning?”
    My daughter shook her head. “I couldn’t see it.”
    “Couldn’t see it? The bowl? You couldn’t see the bowl?”
    “My eyes wouldn’t open.”
    I grinned. We had left the house around four for the six o’clock flight. I glanced around trying to spot a snack area, but one wasn’t close.
    “Maybe I have a meal-replacement bar in my purse.”
    “Yuck.”
    The loudspeaker blared. “Passengers on flight 224, there has been another gate change. We are sorry for the inconvenience. The flight will now be boarding out of F12.”
    “F12!” I muttered. “Make up your mind.” I swung the heavy bag over my shoulder and helped Kelli into her gear. “Come on, girls. Back to F12.”
    “I’m hungry.”
    “We’ll get something before we board.”
    We passed passengers still streaming from the first gate change, on their way to the second gate.
    “Gate change,” I called nicely. “Back to F12.”
    I heard a few grumbles when the word spread through the crowd. The passengers made U-turns and headed back to F12.
    I went straight to the desk to confirm that we had the right gate. The woman didn’t look up. She kept her eyes on the computer terminal. “The San Francisco flight is loading at F3.”
    “We were just at F3, and they said the gate had been changed back to F12.”
    The woman shook her head. “I don’t know why they would say that. The flight is boarding from F3.”
    Taking a deep breath, I turned and faced the girls. “F3.”
    Kelli heaved an exasperated sigh.
    “I know—come on.” We set off for F3. This time I didn’t bother to inform other passengers; I was a coward. Some were getting hostile, and who could blame them? I was feeling a little murderous myself.
    We dropped our bags on the floor at gate three and sank into the nearest chairs, trying to catch our breath. Kelli was famished, and grouchy because of it. I rummaged around in my purse and came up with gum, all I had on me. I noticed the flight was loading, so I picked up the shoulder bag and my purse and glanced at our group number. We were Group Six, so we’d have a few minutes. I searched for a kiosk—anything to buy an apple or doughnut.
    The overhead speaker said that Group Seven could now load.
    What happened to Group Six?
    I stepped to the desk, rereading seating assignments. The clerk looked up. “Group Six has already loaded?” I asked.
    She nodded.
    “This is the San Francisco flight.” By this time I wasn’t taking any chances.
    She nodded. Then looked at the monitor. “No, this is the L.A. flight.”
    “L.A.! What happened to San Francisco?”
    She consulted a paper. “I’m sorry—that flight is now boarding out of F12.” She smiled. “Better hurry. The flight leaves in three minutes.”
     
    Rainy San Francisco. I stared out the windows of the Boeing 727 as the aircraft taxied into the