Travel preparation has long inspired anxiety in me. Precious routines are interrupted and timeliness looms even larger than usual. It's serious business. At least that's how I see it, even when I'm not the one traveling.
Inefficient packing makes me crazy, but if it's not my suitcase, why do I care? Forgetting to pack stuff doesn't have to be a big deal, yet for some reason I anticipate the potential act of forgetting something as a horror to be avoided at all costs (perhaps an explanation for why I consistently over-pack). My anxiety immediately dissipates once travel has begun.
Friday evening The Boy prepared for an o'dark thirty flight out of town. Rarely have I felt as blessed as when Wendy said, "I'll take him to the airport." Which explains why she was already asleep beside me and I was wide awake. Listening to him pack.
Into the kitchen, then out to the carport. Up the stairs to his room. The dryer buzzed. Down to the basement. Back up to the landing and into the bathroom. Footsteps, doors, cabinets, stairs, floors, drawers: each sound distinct, repetitive and comforting in their familiarity. Packing progress.
It's easier now that he's grown. Through the years I've gone from packing for him to helping him pack to trying to mind my own business and let him mind his. He'll let me know if he needs me. He's independent with proven competence; I don't need to worry. But I do it anyway. Old habits and such.
I lay there under the covers, Pixie stretched along the length of my left leg, Wendy cuddling my right side, Dudley curled along her back. The house got very quiet and I drifted off to sleep.
The Boy will be home again in two weeks. Three weeks later he'll board another plane, off to Asia for nine months touring as "Rolf" in The Sound of Music.
China. Thailand. The Philippines. Holy shit. I don't even want to consider the anxiety I'll be squashing while he's packing for that trip.
Meanwhile, my heart swells with pride at his accomplishments as my head tries to tell me it's just another job (albeit a really cool one!). Still. He's come a long way since playing "Romeo" in elementary school.
Inefficient packing makes me crazy, but if it's not my suitcase, why do I care? Forgetting to pack stuff doesn't have to be a big deal, yet for some reason I anticipate the potential act of forgetting something as a horror to be avoided at all costs (perhaps an explanation for why I consistently over-pack). My anxiety immediately dissipates once travel has begun.
Friday evening The Boy prepared for an o'dark thirty flight out of town. Rarely have I felt as blessed as when Wendy said, "I'll take him to the airport." Which explains why she was already asleep beside me and I was wide awake. Listening to him pack.
Into the kitchen, then out to the carport. Up the stairs to his room. The dryer buzzed. Down to the basement. Back up to the landing and into the bathroom. Footsteps, doors, cabinets, stairs, floors, drawers: each sound distinct, repetitive and comforting in their familiarity. Packing progress.
It's easier now that he's grown. Through the years I've gone from packing for him to helping him pack to trying to mind my own business and let him mind his. He'll let me know if he needs me. He's independent with proven competence; I don't need to worry. But I do it anyway. Old habits and such.
I lay there under the covers, Pixie stretched along the length of my left leg, Wendy cuddling my right side, Dudley curled along her back. The house got very quiet and I drifted off to sleep.
The Boy will be home again in two weeks. Three weeks later he'll board another plane, off to Asia for nine months touring as "Rolf" in The Sound of Music.
China. Thailand. The Philippines. Holy shit. I don't even want to consider the anxiety I'll be squashing while he's packing for that trip.
Meanwhile, my heart swells with pride at his accomplishments as my head tries to tell me it's just another job (albeit a really cool one!). Still. He's come a long way since playing "Romeo" in elementary school.
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9 comments:
Hot and oh so cool.
Safe journey to the entertainer.
OMG that's awesome!!
Wow, how proud you must be... that's great. :)
Hey, how the heck did you get the musical notes in your title?
I hope you have a shoe box reserved to collect the post cards of his travels. He will send them, I hope?
Touring Asia???
Awesome!
One may always hope, Max.
He really IS something, That Boy. ;)
I went through the same 'stages' of packing with/for Ferris.
Now (well at least when he is home from school) he packs for himself - generally around 3 a.m.
We still help him gather his things for his dorm room - but after stuffing his car, he heads out on his own.
That is really cool. When he's accepting his Oscar, it'll be really cool that he brings his Mom's to go down the red carpet with him! :)
That is so cool! He will see and learn so much, I'm jealous!
How cool that he's doing this!
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