“Piglet sidled up to Pooh from behind.
“Pooh!” he whispered.
“Nothing,” said Piglet, taking Pooh’s paw. “I just wanted to be sure of you.”
― A.A. Milne, The House at Pooh Corner
There is a reassuring weight in good things.
The other weekend I got to go to Houston, TX and read my book over there. Holding my book and reading out loud to the eager first graders felt natural and right and fun. The first graders wore bright orange T-shirts proudly saying, “First Grade Rocks! Kindergarten is so Last Year!”
Another exciting thing for Lailah’s Lunchbox , the books were given away in a raffle at the Islamic Speakers Bureau gala. Mayor Shirley Franklin, the mayor who served Atlanta last time got a book. Do check out the ISB’s initiatives about making a difference/anti-bullying for Giving Tuesday–a great article here about it!
I used to travel alone quite frequently back and forth to Karachi, Pakistan. I forgot how reassuring the weight of holding your own bag is, no one else’s, and pulling it behind you and hearing the sounds of your bag’s wheels clickety-click on shiny floors felt. I enjoyed a weekend at the Doubletree Hotel and was glad to receive my warm gooey chocolate chip cookie upon checking in and to eat it all by myself.
Being on your own, getting your me-time, is a beautiful thing, but once you’re back in your own home, and you have little children clamoring for your attention and needing constant feedings, bathroom stops, and needs, you can feel like your day dissolves around them. The back and forth to school, the packing of school lunches, the constant pile up of dirty laundry followed by the occasional putting away clean laundry. The trying to find pockets of time to write and churn out manuscripts. But there is a reassuring weight to that lifestyle too. A repetitive routine that can be soothing.
I had another trip, a road trip this time in which I was responsible for not just my bag, but for the bags of others.
I was responsible for holding little hands clutching tight across the road, for squashing bags of clothes into the already-packed car. Not as glamorous as the first solo trip, but grateful for family, beautiful mountain views on the road, the peek-a-boo sun that stopped being shy, and for leaves, leaves, everywhere.
I enjoyed both trips, although vastly different from each other. One trip, I was an author, a sort of professional person, a person the first graders took delight in greeting. A person with my own scannable-neon-green lighted-hotel-key, bathroom, and room.
On the second trip, I was a mother, a wife, a grand-daughter and daughter-in-law.
Back home, it is reassuring to be home, but I forgot what it feels like to be in charge of one’s home, to be responsible for making meals, buying groceries, filling up an empty gas tank, depositing a check in the bank.
Trying to find little bits of happiness and peace here and there that make me feel like I’m exploring new places or going on a journey, even if it is a mini-one to Target or a new coffee shop, or an actual real journey like apple picking!
–Hopefully, more sooner rather than later!