Two days ago, second daughter and I drove 455 miles to get her back to nannying her young niece, and me close to an airport that had direct flights to Miami, Florida. We split the drive, I took the first leg, she brought us in.
Yesterday I packed my carry on for a two-night business trip, oldest daughter drove me to Boston Logan International Airport, I checked in, boarded, sat there for thirty minutes or so, (apparently waiting for the co-pilot to arrive) felt anxious, and then asked if I could get off the plane, which the answer was yes, and I did.
It was an intuitive thing; I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t fly away from my family, fly into a full day and a half of meetings, fly around a hurricane. Sure, there were two dinners to look forward to, the CEO and designer to meet, important ideas to discuss and share, fun and accomplished colleagues to hang with, all at a fancy hotel and company headquarters, my body just told me ‘Not now, not this time’.
Not sure if this feeling is from the last year we’ve had, or the year I’m heading into, I write this today on my 56th birthday. It’s probably a little bit of a lot of things and knowing that you can’t be in two places at once and the place you choose is really where your life happens, and that days turn into weeks and weeks turn into months and months into years and then, there you are.
Walking off that plane felt so much better than sitting on that plane, and I’ve never felt that way before. Before I could just go, go, go, up, up, and away. Honestly, grounded is a good thing, and that’s what I’m after. Grounded to the family we’ve grown, grounded to the families our family is growing. I took a taxi back to our flat, the space we bought below Caroline and Sean’s townhouse, and took Peyton to the park. It was intuitive.