Packing

So, we leave in two days. Gone for three weeks. We have never been away for that long, together, before. This will be so strange, and potentially so wonderful.

We will all be going places we have never been before. And some places I have been with someone before, places that were special to her. Only now, we will see these places with fresh eyes, new perceptions, different experiences.

So, what will I be? A guide? A parent? A concierge? A chauffeur? A ghost? For sure, I will be a recording device, gathering and creating memories that will last far longer than I. I must remember that when times get stressful. I must remember that this journey will live on and I want those memories to be good.

We will be a week in southern Hungary, a country I have never visited. I wish we could have more time in Budapest, but this time it will be only a stopping place, a hotel coming and going. Then Brussels and Paris. What to see and do? Then rent a car and head for the coast of Normandy and then down through Brittany to meet the bride and groom who's wedding we celebrated one week earlier in Hungary. There, we will take a ferry to an island named Belle Ilse de Mer where we will spend our last week at the summer home of the groom.

Along the way there will be many adventures for sure. I have no reservations for places between Paris and the ferry terminal. Three nights of unknown. The teenage daughter of the groom will be traveling with us so I will be caged in a small car with three teenagers. Wish me luck.

I keep asking my children if they are packed. They say things like, "I'm organized, but nothing's in the bag," or, "I just need to go to the store one more time." Comments about needing to take a jacket or windbreaker for the coastal winds and storms fall on deaf, teenage ears.

Then there is my anxiety about making connecting flights. We fly from here to a smallish airport on the east coast where we have fifty minutes to make our connecting flight to Amsterdam. Any delay there and we are toast. Once we hit Schiphol airport in Amsterdam, I can relax. The rest is easy (I think). The next flight is eight hours away, but on an airline based in Hungary that I have never heard of. Wish me luck again.

And of course, the kids will want to take the train into Amsterdam central during the layover, which could be fun, except that I'll be a basket case and it will be 6:30 in the morning. Not even the coffee shops will be open then. My daughter will be so disappointed. I was there once before at that time. We walked in and out of the red-light district for four hours waiting for the Rock Hard Cafe to open so my travel mates could steal some beer coasters. A good time was had by all. I don't think I want to recreate that scenario this time. Maybe a quick nap on the airline benches would be best. Wish me luck some more.

I did chemo yesterday, so I'm not exactly at the top of my game. We juggled the schedule so I could have this time and I mean to make the best of it. I will miss my friends at home, and my dawg. I will look forward to returning and exploring the new found riches that await me at home. Two days after we get back, we leave again for up north to partake in the annual mini-family reunion and Blues Fest. We will truly be road warriors by then with battered baggage and passports stamped with exotic entry/exit visas.

I hope to post again before we leave and from on the road when we can find a free WIFI hotspot. So, hang in there. We will be back with tales to tell.