Looking around I see stuff
scattered. The things I have been
gathering for the last month to be prepared for my trip. My first trip away from my family. There are things to pack, things not to pack,
things maybe I should pack. Some of the
craziness I’m surrounded by reflects how I currently feel on the inside. I can feel my body tensing up as I try to
decide how to narrow my packing down. I’m
embracing the sweet familiarity of my home as I’m packing. The smell of fresh laundry, kids fighting, my
son bouncing a ball up
and down the hall, the girls giggling, the dog barking,
and the TV so loud I’m sure the neighbors can hear it.
How will
I ever get all of this to fit in my bags?
I don’t want to have to check a bag but there’s so much to take! Am I forgetting anything? I always forget something. Shirts, pants, underwear, socks, pajamas,
shoes, bathrooms supplies, the piles around me just keep getting bigger and my suitcase
just keeps getting smaller. I’m tired
from trying to get it all together.
Finally, it’s
all shoved in every space available. My
things are folded, rolled, and jammed in.
The suitcase barely zips up. In
pops a kid asking me what I’m doing.
Then the whining starts. “I don’t
want you to go! Can I go with you?” I
wish, but secretly am looking forward to time away, but terrified at the
thought of leaving! He wants me to pack
him inside my suitcase. Ha! A few hugs, I tell him okay, we laugh as I
hold back tears, and he goes back to bouncing his ball up and down the hall.
I sit on
the end of the bed and soak it in. This
is my home, this is my comfort place.
The place where I let it all out while trying to hold it all together. I take a deep breath and try to smell, hear,
taste, and feel it all so I can remember it for the next 9 days. What have I
gotten myself into?
Four
months ago, this was all my idea. I
thought there would be plenty of time to prepare. Time has flown by and here I am trying to get
all prepared for my departure a couple weeks out. Luckily the kids are out of school until I
return. However, there are still
practices that they must get to and games that will be played. I hate missing my kids’ games. I now it will all work out and get taken care
of, but I hate having to depend on people and not being here.
Bags are
packed and sitting by the door in my bedroom.
There they sit quietly, patiently waiting to begin a journey that has
been building up for months. They sit
with the smell of home all packed away in them.
Packed with my life for the 9 day journey that begins in just a few
short days!!
 | |||||
| You might find him in my suitcase:) |
 |
| Waiting for the Journey |
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