That moment when I gave in to the surprise that I was holding in for so long, and told my 6 year old that we were going on a trip to Florida. He had been begging and pleading for awhile to go on some sort of vacation because he was so sick of the cold weather. I can’t say that I blame him. He didn’t understand that we really couldn’t afford it but the Home Alone reenactment of his excitement (both hands pressed to cheeks—screaming loudly) was simply priceless.
That moment when the email came through two days before our expected departure that our first flight to NYC had been canceled. Snow and ice storms were tearing through the mid west and east coast. Thousands of planes had been delayed or canceled. I figured now was as good as time as any to break down and let out all the stresses I’ve been dutifully clinging onto, storing them away like some precious cargo as I tend to focus soley on the present of being a mom and making sure the kids are well taken care of. It was time to dump the cargo and that I did through tears and tears and tears.
My husband dutifully on hold with the airlines until two in the morning trying to see if there was another way to meet our connecting flight in New York. Not even knowing if they would cancel that flight as well.
That moment when I just regretted drinking an entire bottle of white white thinking I had nothing to do the next day, knowing now, I had to take a late afternoon flight on little sleep completely and utterly hungover.
Ohhh… the regret at the airport.
The unknown of what’s ahead.
That moment when my 5 year old felt the rush of the engine from his perch at the back of the plane, seeing the ground disappear
from underneath us. The sheer joy in his happy and extremely loud squeals took my breath away. It also made heads turn all the way at the front of the plane. Have you ever laughed so hard because you were truly in awe of something? I think I just did for the first time.
That moment when we saw old friends from Manhattan, who are really more like family. When we all had an amazing mexican dinner in Harlem. We borrowed their friend’s apartment to sleep. We talked into the night about our successes and failures, good luck and bad. Their apartment had just caught fire so this was going to be their temporary home as well.
The waiting for the storm to come. The not knowing whether we will be literally snowed in or if we’d be able to make it out. Left in the void as to whether our flight would continue on.
That moment when we found out we hit a break in the storm, our flight right in the middle, was able to go. The hope of seeing family. Of being aboard one of the most important naval ships of our time. Of letting the boys christen their toes with the salty water of the ocean. Of seeing their Nickelodeon cartoons come to life at the hotel. Of me breathing deeply at the cost but knowing this was another priceless less file for the treasures that I’ve witnessed in life thus far.
That moment when the storms below made our plane start head banging as if it were at a rock concert. My knuckles white. My heart plummeting with every dip, My anxiety soaring towards the sun.
That moment where I looked at my young son who had no clue that there was a reason to worry. He, free as a bird, jumped in his belted seat, cries of “this is fun!” coming from his little mouth, his eyes aflame with the type of glee only a child could have.
That moment when I swallowed my fear, anchored my foot on the seat in front of me to get some sort of bearing with the obscene amount of rocking that was going on, and joined in. We yelled “WEEEEE!” as if it were the best coaster ride ever!
That moment, I’ll never forget.
—-One hour to go.