Picture this: an old woman, arriving at the train station (or airport) hours ahead of schedule. Ready for her journey, quite ready, because for days now she has kept an open suitcase where she placed items she did not want to forget. Clutching valuables in her tightly closed purse now as she waits.
This is an image I have of my grandmother. She used to be that person. And I always wondered -- does she think she needs all this time to wait? Is she afraid of being too late?
These days I know that it's not necessarily the fear of missing a connection. It's an older person's dislike of being rushed. My days still have a tint of the frantic about them (yesterday comes to mind), but when I can and especially when I travel, I try hard not to put myself in the position of having to hurry. (Rushing also leads to forgetting and forgetfulness is the ever lurking enemy of an older person!)
All that I had to finish up before leaving tomorrow (because I am leaving tomorrow) I did by the end of the day yesterday. I need to pack. That and only that I saved for today.
It's beautiful outside. A typical February-in-Wisconsin brilliance: sunshine and crisp cold air, all rolled into a lovely shade of winter. Sure, we could use a snow cover. But even without it, it's pretty out there!
And breakfast? Warm, cozy, perfect. (I ask, rhetorically -- why do I look forward to breakfast at a hotel, when the most perfect breakfast is right here? Ed answers, rhetorically -- yes, why?)
Then I take out my suitcase and consider the weather and thus clothing requirements for the next week. This isn't difficult. I have my travel clothes -- I wear the same stuff, be it on a trip to Chicago, Paris, or the Alps. There's the "warm weather" set and the "cold weather" set. The only hesitation now is that where I am going, it's neither warm nor cold.
Interruption: my friends want to zoom. They're part of the week's doings. They want to confer.
Back to packing.
Interruption: Ed wants to go for a walk. Yes, I'd love that!
(Oh, but it's windy! Crispy is the wrong word. I'd say more like blustery jaw freezing cold!)
Back to packing. Indeed, I'm done with it! Now I'm really like my grandma in the years when she was ready days before she needed to be ready.
The evening before a departure is always a touch sad. Leaving behind Ed. Kids, grandkids. Losing that immediacy of a person right there, in the same space (Ed), or town (young family), or at least time zone (youngest family)! I'd make a lousy long-haul truck driver. Or pilot. Jobs that require you to always be away. Funny that a person like me, who loves waking up in a new place also loves to wake up in the farmhouse. We are a strange compilation of many traits, desires and inclinations.
with love...
