You might be surprised to learn this but, I hate flying. Between my tendency to experience motion sickness and my discomfort with feeling as if I’m not in control, flying prompts intense anxiety before I even board the plane.
Monday night’s eerie smoky sky sunset with its post apocalyptic vibe did not quell my nerves. As I stared to the west, I couldn’t help but wonder if this sunset might be last. Dramatic? Yes. Possible? Of course.
None of us are guaranteed another day.
The more times I board a plane to cross the Atlantic, the higher the possibility, in my mind, it is that I won’t reach my destination. As I frequently tell my sons, we’re not magically exempt from tragedy. Bad things can happen to anyone.
And they do.
In the past 10 or 12 weeks, there have been a number of deaths in my circle of friends and family. Most of these losses have been sudden and without any warning. If there’s any consolation to be found in these deaths, those who were youngest died living their lives completely – actively and with love.
Two days prior to take off, I gathered my sons for a bon voyage where I told them the plan for my “estate” should anything happen to my while traveling. Side note: everything gets divided three ways, any possessions they want they’re welcome to take turns choosing in a rotation decided by whomever pulls the long straw.
On the morning of my departure I anticipated the journey I had in front of me, one which involved multiple trains and two flights. My body responded to my fears in a physical way which I won’t relate here. I was nervous, more nervous than I ever would have let on.
I got lucky, though. All my planning paid off and I breezed through all of my connections – Amtrak to the LIRR to the AirTrain through TSA to my gate to Dublin and then Naples. It all went flawlessly. And my reward? I got to wake up this morning in a large, clean bed in the same lovely room I’ve stayed in each time I’ve visited Naples.
There have been many times when people have remarked upon my “bravery” for being comfortable to travel solo. I don’t believe I am any more brave than anyone else. I think I’m just less afraid of traveling alone than I am of not experiencing all I want to in my life.
Tell me, what else should I have done?
Doesn’t everything die at last, and too soon?
Tell me, what is it you plan to do
with your one wild and precious life?
Mary Oliver
DelSo 
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