I’m leaving the country tomorrow (for the third time this year) and it’s the same old thing: the scrambling to get things done while feeling a familiar tightening of chest muscles, the failure to match nouns with verbs.
It’s a privilege to go. I’m aware of that. And I’ll get on board, literally and figuratively, in about 30 hours. Until then, I think about my kids and how they’ll get along while I’m gone. I think about my husband. Will he secretly watch new episodes of The Blacklist without me? I probably would if I were him. And will someone think to put the pink coat on our dachshund, Amy, if the weather gets colder next week? She needs that coat.
I studied in Vienna when I was in college. I remember feeling trepidation when I boarded the plane to head overseas with a fellow American student from my university. But it wasn’t because of all I was leaving behind. It was because of the future.
That was years ago. Since then I’ve traveled to five different continents (and lived on three), so I don’t feel those travel butterflies quite like I used to. Now I head into the air trying to send one more I love you text to the people who are holding my heart until I come back home again.