Strolling through the Atlanta airport, it’s obvious that The Masters is over. With an upside-down octopus peering at me from a Little Nemo suitcase and a colorful backpack of images of Care Bear after Care Bear, Evelyn turns, revealing a string of gold Mardi Gras beads to her knees. “I’m coming,” I tell her as I spy handfuls of golfers. Their well-fitted white hats with Nike, Ping, and Titleist, collared, silky, or striped tee polos, nice butt-fitting slacks, and white, laced shoes are dead giveaways. Now, are any of these guys any good, or were they simply spectating in Augusta for the weekend and making the two-hour and fifteen-minute drive back here?
With a much hotter day today, I imagine they’re all pleased to be heading home. Even though I was mostly immersed in where switches, outlet receptacles, and doorways would go on our new build, I found shade whenever possible; the ten-degree swing shifted me from sweaty to lovely. Plus, experiencing the afternoon sun off our future back deck felt nice; a cluster of trees gave me confidence in where we positioned the house.
While waiting for our flight, the offer for a $700 voucher tempted us to move our flight to a later departure. When it jumped to $1400, Dave too jumped up. But it was too late. Later, we regretted not making the change when we ran into protests at the SeaTac airport.
During the flight the cruising altitude was on my mind—the altitude that if something goes wrong, you’ll read about me on the obituary page. I can be so morbid sometimes, but I can’t help it – being a plane passenger and thoughts of death go hand in hand. I don’t know about you, but I pay close attention to survivable sky height. I even took pictures of the sweet spot for you.
I don’t know yet, but I believe things could go really well for me and my family with this move. It’ll be a shift from a hare-like race to a tortoise one. And who will I and we be over there I’m curious to know.
What do I do with this guilt of the people I’m leaving behind? Isn’t that an interesting perspective I’m leaving behind. As if I am a leader, a figurehead, and oh-so-necessary. I’m not saying I’m not, but the verbiage I used put a hefty amount of weight on me.
I remember feeling like this before when leaving on my year-long road trip. However valuable my friendships were, some also felt like a burden. Likely they weren’t even aware of the weight I carried, that I worried, and how much I wanted for them—kind of like being their mom. Looking back, I benefited from the separation, as it gave us space and removed that aspect from our dynamic.
That’ll do it. I sure am glad to be home. Take care and see you tomorrow. Love, Jaclynn
Going On 40 