I’m Leavin’ on a Jet Plane…

Only I DO know when I’ll be back again. Sunday. I have exactly three and a half days to remember what it was like to be my own person. To not have any real responsibilities.

Driving in the rain, my mind imagines all kinds of catastrophes, all completely unrealistic. This is not a reflection on my sweet husband’s driving abilities, but rather a window into my own ridiculousness! Why do we do that? I’m looking forward to this trip, and have been for quite some time. Yet, I imagine all the things that may go wrong in my absence….as if my presence would stop any of theses improbable scenarios. Please tell me I’m not the only one who does this. Perhaps if I traveled more it wouldn’t be such a big deal. (Hmm. I could volunteer to test that theory! Paris, London, New York…oh the possibilities are endless!)

This is the first time in over six years that I’ve been alone for more than just a few hours. While I am 99% in-the-air-heel-clicks-ridiculously excited, there is a tiny 1% that is out of sorts. I have a zillion ideas for how to suck the marrow out of every minute, but am finding that the list keeps growing, but the amount of time I have remains the same!

I used to think it odd that couples would take separate vacations. “Why would someone want to be away from, and experience fun adventures without their loved one?” I wondered. As a military family, we spend so much time apart already, it seemed odd to me to choose to be apart. After having kids, I get it. Completely. The idea of being autonomous, no responsibilities, no “I really should…” or “I have to…” and to just be, is really heaven when you’re in the endless cycle of day to day parenting. I love the idea of just being me for a few days outside of the roles I am within my family. I’m living the dream, baby!

As we pull up to the terminal, I can feel my sweet pajama-clad daughter staring at me, clutching her pink stuffed dog. Her bottom lip quivering, I walk around to her side of the car and give her a big hug and whisper “I love you. You are going to be fine.” She lets go and I find I can’t meet her eyes. I know it’s time. “You’ll be fine.” Was I saying it to myself or her? Both, probably.

“Flight number such and such, now boarding,” blares out over the loudspeaker, jarring me out of my people watching and pretending to read reverie.

It’s time. I’m ready. I’m going to be more than fine. I’m going to have a blast!



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