I have just said my goodbyes to D at the airport – I run back for a second round of hugs & kisses because I cannot bring myself to leave – then I’m back again at the security gate! By this time I am sobbing uncontrollably and am missing ma with such keen anguish that I feel my heart will burst from the pain. I am infinitely sad for all the moments – happy moments and sad moments and angry moments and emotional moments – that I’ll never again be able to share with her – except in thoughts!
I have no sense of the great adventure that awaits me – no excitement at the prospect of the walk – the friendships that will (likely) be struck – the experiences that will be shared – only a vast sweeping sadness that makes my heart heavy with the weight of the grief I’m feeling!
I sob my way through the security gate – not knowing how to stop. I place my flimsy day-pack on the belt along with my phone & am vaguely – through my tears – hoping that TSA won’t question the little tube of ashes (my mother’s & J’s mother’s) I have rolled up inside a pair of pants – or the little clay Ganesha that I am hoping to place at the Cruz De Ferro on the Camino or the little pebble that my friend Nippy has given me – taken from the Lucky Bamboo vase that was a birthday gift from my mother to Nippy! All the bags placed ahead of mine come sailing through but my bag slows down to almost a standstill for added scrutiny! My heart stops even as my tears continue to flow. I don’t know what I would do if they don’t let me carry these with me. But Ganesha & my mom’s spirit & Nippy’s guardian angel (represented by the) medallion she’s given me, all work together at persuading the TSA agent to pass the bag through after a few extra (long harrowing seconds) of furrowed brow and puzzlement scrunching up his face.
With no more immediate fear of having my precious belongings taken away from me, I am free to resume my sobbing and I succumb with renewed vigor and gusto. My shoulders are shaking and my chest is heaving and I am deeply enclosed in my own personal grief bubble – up and down escalators – into the train that will take me to the boarding gate – and still going strong when I reach B71. I pause occasionally to ineffectually mop at my face & after several attempts actually manage to stop for breath & respite. I turn off the airplane mode & call Nippy – longing to hear her voice again – & missing her and D & home & the comfort of the daily routine I am leaving behind. I feel as if I am abandoning ma – leaving her to fend for herself – and the feeling is so strong that I can’t shake it off!
Nippy has strong shoulders and I’ve leaned on them long and hard over the last decade or so that I’ve known her. She comforts me with words she’s used many times – that everyone has a different pace of healing – that it’s a process – and that it’ll take whatever time it takes & we just can’t expedite it at will. I let her words of wisdom wash over me and finally quieten down to where I can talk about non-mom topics.
After I hang up I look for a free outlet where I can charge my phone. Every available socket is taken and I look panic-stricken at my charge-level that has fallen to a dramatic low of 92%. I belong to those OCD groups that feel compelled to always have a fully charged device. Just like the gas level in my car – if it has hit the quarter mark I will obsessively hunt down a gas station that will sell me gas at the price I want – even if it means going the extra mile or two in the dead of night to avoid those that are bent upon fleecing me. I finally sight an outlet right outside the men’s room that apparently no one wants to use and I swoop down upon it and stake sole claim. I spend a worry-free 20-25 minutes browsing while charging – an activity that thrills my multi-tasking soul. I almost miss the call to board my flight but am eventually seated for my short 55 minute flight from Dulles to Charlotte.
I browse “American Way” – American Airlines’ in-flight magazine & read with fascination about eco-friendly chopsticks that you can munch on after a meal. Apparently these chopsticks are made from an aquatic plant called Igusa and one pair of sticks has as much fiber as a salad (though it doesn’t give salad serving size).
I also read about George W. who has discovered painting 3 years after exiting his role as president. He paints portraits of injured U.S. war veterans and tells their stories. The portraits are astonishingly good and I am vastly impressed. I recall how depressed I was when he got re-elected for the second term and by comparison realize bitterly that if I had known then what we know now – how our standing in the world is being destroyed – one moronic tweet at a time – that W was an idiot but a well-meaning one whereas the current occupant – is an uncultured, uncouth, low-class cretin!
We reach Charlotte on time and I’m unsure if concourse & gate mean the same thing. I need to board at D10 so start heading towards concourse D and luckily land at D10. First things first – I find that lone socket that everyone else seems to miss – this time right next to an empty chair 1 gate away (D12 ??) and I plunge in my charger eager to rescue my phone from a dying 81%! Mentally I applaud myself as socket finder supreme! I exchange a few pleasantries & texts with what I consider my compact family group – D & my friends S & N. Before I know it (& only a meager 90% on charge level) it’s time to board again.
There’s everyone speaking that delicious French. How can words and sentences that mainly sound like stringing le bleu le blanc rapidly together with pursed lips sound so delightful?! And how do all those women with hippy clothes & scraggly hairstyles manage to look so trendy & snazzy?! Must be a gift they’re all born with. Feeling every bit as gauche as I probably looked I settle in at my window seat. When the aircraft is ready for take off I am vastly relieved to find that I can spread out on the aisle seat as well – unexpected bonus for an 8.5 hours flight.
Meal on board is 2 tiny & tinier clear plastic boxes – tiny contains mac & cheese with a scrawny piece of broccoli thrown in to lend credibility to its “pasta with vegetables” label and tinier has 2 lettuce leaves and 2 shreds of carrot. I look upon my tray with dismay. I am starving after my omelette brunch with D that I had around 11ish (Elevenses??). I hear an announcement about meals & drinks to purchase and I am indignant – surely they can throw in at least one decent meal with an international flight?! I devour the green leaves with the voraciousness of a starving goat and then mop up the rest of the dressing with the small & crumbly bread roll I stumble upon. Then like in a treasure hunt I find a cheddar wedge & 2 solid square crackers that I proceed to demolish. I hear a hostess ask me if I want anything to drink immediately after I hear her tell the couple in front of me that their drinks will be $18.50/-. Not sure what to expect I tentatively ask for red wine & get a flimsy plastic cup filled to the brim & no intimidating price tag. Seeking quantity over quality anyway, I sip the wine and start on my tiny mac n cheese which is quite ghastly. However the wine makes it all better & for a sweeping finish I find that the packaged brownie dessert is perfect – not too sweet and on the right side of soft & chewy and Life starts looking up again.
The entertainment monitor however is another story. The Touchscreen is very annoying – tapping gently does nothing, tapping firmly sometimes brings up a completely different selection and sometimes does nothing. I start jabbing at it fast & furiously until I hear an announcement saying they’re going to “reboot the system”. But after 20 minutes of rebooting the only difference is that jabbing the forward button makes the selections go backward like hot & cold water tap mix-ups. I finally abandon the idea of watching movies & manage to catch 2 episodes of “Curb Your Enthusiasm” – classic Larry David & quite entertaining! I arrive in Paris – red-eyed and unslept – it is 8:30 a.m. August 14th!
