bittersweet

I write today from 32,000 feet over the Midwestern plains on my way to Chicago to catch my connecting flight to Madrid. I’ve just said the hardest goodbye of my life: to my parents. It’s different than last time. Maybe because I’m traveling completely alone this time. Maybe because I will be gone for longer this time. Mostly though, I think it’s because I’ve grown so close to them over the past summer of living with them. I really won the parent lottery.

My dad can be a little rough around the edges, but the kind, thoughtful man of integrity that lies beneath shines through if you look for it. His acts of kindness and generosity are not always outwardly obvious, but they run deep. His generosity toward me is the reason I am able to be on this plane today. Sure, I bought the ticket and made all the necessary arrangements for my visa, job and accommodations, but has been a support for me in a variety of ways. He keeps me in check. He’s the one I go to with freak-outs about anything travel or money-related. He just knows so much about so many different things. In this age of Google, we ask the internet for everything, but sound advice spoken from true experience will remain priceless no matter how advanced technology gets.

What can be said about Pam? Everyone loves Pam. I don’t know how many times I’ve heard that from the numerous people who know her. It’s just true. She is the most lovable goofball on the face of the earth. We have so much fun together, and even as I write this my eyes are welling with tears at the thought of the fact that I won’t be able to be in her presence for an undetermined amount of time. We share many passions: exercising, pounding coffee (strong,straight up black, and always hot), flexing our music theory muscles by noticing the unique harmonies or syncopations in songs we like. I am fantastically fortunate to call my own mother a kindred spirit. I admire her genuine gentle kindness and patience. I also aspire to one day have upper arms as perfectly sculpted as hers.

A trembling “thank you” and “love you” was all I could mutter through the streaming tears at the Fargo airport today. That hardly suffices for what they’ve done and continue to do for me. So thank you, Mom and Dad. I can’t say it enough.

If you know my parents and happen to see them, please give them a hug from me. (Dale may prefer a high five or a handshake).

Now: off to SPAIN! Talk to ya’ll on the other side

So, are you all packed?

Why is it that whenever you’re leaving for a trip, the only question people can think to ask you is, “So, are you all packed?” Perhaps it really is the first thing that comes to mind, or maybe it seems to them to be the least invasive question to ask someone who is leaving for a long time, but for some reason it always gets on my nerves.

What does “packed” even mean? Belongings all rolled up and cuddling in your zipped suitcase, waiting for you at the door on the eve of your departure, ready to be whisked off to the airport? I’ve been on a lot of trips, and by that definition, I’ve NEVER been “packed.”

I keep telling people that I’ve packed “mentally.” When I shared this notion with my dear friend Jackie yesterday, she chuckled and shared my sentiment that packing “mentally” is half the battle.

I’ve been paring down my clothes, electronics, books and other belongings all summer: selling them to Plato’s Closet, on eBay, etc. In a roundabout way, this is part of the packing process I am in now. With less belongings to sort through, I’m able to more easily decide what really needs to come along with me.

My packing situation couldn’t be more ideal: I’ve been able to spread my belongings into an organized mess across several hundred square feet in my parents’ basement. This has allowed me to make my bedroom my mess-free sanctuary. This is essential for the neat freaks out there (like myself), for whom this level of disorder can induce serious health issues, ranging from headaches and hernias to complete insanity.

I made my older brother’s ex-bedroom into “Pack Station Central” for my clothes. I started all items in the “Probably” pile and gradually moved them into the “Definitely” pile in order of importance as space in my suitcase would allow.

I’ve spent the most wonderful summer at home with my parents. I’m going to miss them so much I can’t even think about it. Tonight, we enjoyed a fab home-cooked salmon dinner together tonight, complete with some fine Rioja wines in celebration of my move back to the land of vino tinto.

Some fine Rioja wines

So now, on the eve of my departure, I would say yes: I am all packed. My suitcase might not be zipped and at the door, but everything is ready. And so am I. I’ve been saying goodbyes for weeks now, and it has been draining. It is time to get on the plane!

My last ND sunset