As the people mover bounced across the tarmac on the way to the main terminal at Dulles, I ended the call on my Sidekick and blankly watched the toddlers near me hurtling themselves from bench to bench trying to expel the energy they were forced to contain on the flight from Dallas. I gazed at them and tried to remember a time when I was that innocent and carefree, a time when my primary concerns were access to room to run and whether or not I could have that new doll.
Embracing adulthood requires embracing many of life's harsh realities, one of those being the mortality of those we love. Granted, many people are forced to confront death at young age, but I am not one of those people. I consider myself blessed that those I love the most are still among the living. Unfortunately, the older I get the closer I get to being screwed out of time with my family.
After my flight landed at Dulles, I called my mom to let her know I had arrived home safely and find out how everybody was (with my grandmother in the nursing home and hell bent on giving us scares I always check on how everyone is). As her voice broke and she told me not to worry, I knew I was about to hear something that would upset me. When she told me she had been admitted to the hospital for trouble with her heart, I was suddenly hit with the desire to shit and throw up all at the same time (anxiety, baby). I'm pretty sure I called her a pain in the ass and lectured her about waiting until I was clear across the country before telling me she had gone to the hospital.
*to be continued*