Sunday Blog 83 – 7th May 2023
This week I marinaded in a shame bath. Monday morning started too early, 4am to be exact. I was glued to the memoir manuscript a dear talented friend had sent me to read after I had begged her. I was following along her teenage travels, heart in mouth. My kind offer to take my sister-in-law to the airport for 7am was something I was quite committed to, but I fell into a strange early morning time warp. Like two adults who think the other was looking after the toddler, I thought she would prompt me, and she was taking her cue from me. The toddler wandered into trouble.
I squashed down my consternation on seeing the time when we finally left for the airport but breezily took off with confidence, drove us to the Roe 8 where abruptly it turned from a hundred kilometre per hour freeway into a car park.
“We’re going to miss the plane,” she said.
I didn’t want to admit this horror hostess-fail, and turned off the car park-freeway and drove as fast as I could down side streets, roared into the airport as soon as I possibly could get us there.
Had she been unencumbered with a bike box and large backpack, technically she could have boarded the plane. It was still saying “Go to Gate.’ We’d arrived at the check-in desk, breathless and with the nasty taste of stress chemicals in the mouth. But our worst fears were confirmed. For that amount of luggage, we were too late and she had indeed missed the plane.
She recovered relatively quickly given it was her plans that had been scuppered. She even enjoyed the extra days and headed off safely midweek. I on the other hand kept watching the horror unfold on playback in my mind’s eye. Not just that day, but several days later. It was deeper than the feeling of discomfort of being over-dressed or under-dressed for a function. My skin didn’t fit right.
Eventually, I reminded myself of the things that help me to feel better. Yoga. Sunset walks. Writing. Somehow the week had been bare of almost all of them. Down to the beach I went, and saw the culprit. This giant moon on Thursday night. Suddenly it all made more sense. Maybe I wasn’t having a mental breakdown after all. Blame it on the moon.
And I turned the other way and looked at the every day miracle of a sunset over the sea.