Between 24/48 hours before I am about to pack up and head home, I begin to get a sick anxious feeling in my stomach, and my mood starts to change. I become quiet, reserved, and I start to obsess about all of the things that could go wrong on my flight. At times I stop in the airport bathroom before going through security and cry. The severity of the crying is determined by the length and level of enjoyment I’ve had on the trip, how close of a connection I feel to the visitors, and whatever bullshit awaits me upon my return to Atlanta. I never really paid close attention to my emotions while traveling until I had a complete meltdown in Phoenix this summer as soon as I cleared security. Don’t take my word for it, ask my friend Betina who called and had to convince me to get myself together and stop crying while trying to hide behind a plant because I was embarrassed that someone would see me and God forbid, ask me what was wrong and try to give me a hug.
Now, please don’t get me wrong, I am always grateful to come home, see my son, and get back to my normal routine, but something about saying goodbye has become difficult. I am going back to whatever issue I am working on within myself that I have been able to avoid, I am going back to the stresses of the educational field and all of the responsibilities that we face as adults. Sometimes I want to simply be irresponsible, have no cares, just go with the flow of the day and its variables that make each one unique. Does anyone else experience these feelings? I know most people are anxious to get back into their own bed, some might even really enjoy work, miss their husband, kids, the dog, but for me, that plane ride home is the hardest.
Leaving Florida presented a new set of blues, I ached for the tranquility of the ocean, the sway of hanging palms, and the silence of the night filled with chirping crickets and barking dogs. I miss my daily search among the highways, trying to see if by chance I just might get a glimpse of my brother, he called, but I long to see his face and hear his voice in person, watch him laugh as we make jokes about our parents while I cook and he waits to enjoy. I can only hope he is safe, and anticipate the day he rejoins the life of the living. As adults the rivalries that divided us as kids, make for the greatest conversations today, you are the only person who “gets them” the only person who knows by the look on my face, the side eye, or the half dimple smirk exactly what I am saying. As I look at the pictures of us as children, we were always together, arm on a shoulder, hand holding a hand, smiles or tears. I can only wonder, what event in your life did I miss that caused you to stray, forgo all of your successes and accomplishments, leave those who love you, and feed the demon that has once again taken everything that makes you beautiful. Your artwork decorates the house, as do the memories…
Much love from the brown girl, traveling across the gulf side of Florida, sad to go home, but still trying to make something beautiful