That I am separated from my daughters by time and distance is bad enough...but that my most efficient means of reaching them is to dart, from crowded gate to gate, like a frightened rabbit racing across a war-torn no-man's-land, is embarrassing. I feel weak...vulnerable...and exposed.
Let's just say that I am now completely spoiled when it comes to being picked up from the airport as we drove through the Peppermint Parkway.
As we left the Peppermint Parkway, I reflected that, like the lights, our moments and memories are strung together in a similar fashion. Occasionally, there are moments of darkness. There are also flashes of intermittent brilliance. But mostly there is a long, steady illumination...dependable and comforting. And, if sometimes you lose your way...it will help guide you home.
But, as an odd sort of comfort, these feelings are similar to seasickness.
Poseidon and I do not play. Over the years, I have thrown everything I have at him...from Saltine crackers to ginger to bracelets. My eye is on the horizon but my stomach is in hell. And, in a last ditch effort, as I lay in the fetal position in the bow of the boat, an empty vessel that has purged my very soul to the sea, my only thought is that, as unbelievable as it seems in the moment, as soon as my feet hit land, I will immediately feel better.
As soon as I exit that airport...I will immediately feel better.
Having wrestled my two bulging suitcases, laden with horseradish, Poly-O string cheese, venison and Christmas presents, from baggage claim, I wrangled my way out to a mild Texas evening.
Finally. I inhaled deeply, appreciating the luxury.
I called Savannah, who was surprised that I was alone. "Sydney, Doug, and Lisa went in to help you," she said as she drove the obligatory laps around the airport. Lisa found me first...I abandoned my luggage and raced fearlessly down the sidewalk to her and then...Sydney. My heart and arms were full. Only Douglas had the good sense to retrieve the bags.
It had been a long day but SO WORTH IT!
"I know you're tired," Savannah said as we all stuffed ourselves into Lisa's car. I was handed a water and a fistful of chocolate, "but do you think you're up for a little adventure before going home?"
What a day! First I had to pass through the seven levels of hell that is airport travel: Rudeness. Impatience. Bad manners. Narcissism. Poor customer service. Aggressiveness. Marginalization. Then I searched through a sea of kiosks and stores for a head-ache remedy sold by an actual human being before finally walking out the doors of the Austin International Airport.
Safe in our little car, I had a front row seat to a spectacular holiday light show. Festive music, dazzling lights, and animated characters filled our slow, mile-long drive of delight as I peeked out the moon roof, doing a reverse-Santa maneuver. We sang. We wassailed. We waved to the Grinch and a roller skating snowflake. It was magical.
It was like I had stepped off a battered ship after a storm. The events of my long day blurred...becoming more tale than trauma. The waves gentled...the sea had calmed. The churning was over.
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