After a month of angst, this morning I boarded a plane bound for Washington DC, flying on a ticket that was meant to take me to the Womens March last January, but didn't because I got cold feet.
As I made my way through the Jetport security I heard someone call my name. I looked over my shoulder to see my friend Lynette, a woman who used to be my colleague and became my boss at the last job I held before Calvin’s birth, which was as a senior apparel designer at a major outdoor company in Maine. We embraced then headed for the gate where another of my former colleagues, Jackie, was waiting. The women, both faithful followers of my blog, and two of only a handful or three of people I liked and respected at my job, were traveling together to QVC headquarters hoping to place a line of shoes Jackie designs, called Jax and Bard.
When the three of us gave each other a group hug, I told them that just yesterday I had seen messages from them both on social media and had looked them up to see their lovely faces. Jackie said, “there are no accidents” and I promptly stated my disbelief in such notions.
We had some time to kill before boarding, so they suggested we get Bloody Marys at the bar. It was just what I needed to unravel my worries over leaving behind Calvin and Michael to fend for themselves.
While boarding the plane, I glanced down at the small pink and green floral kerchief I tied to my luggage so it can be easily identified, a Liberty Print square with crocheted scalloped edges that Lynette had brought back to me from London over fourteen years ago. I’ve used it to flag my luggage all these years in-between. The words, there are no accidents ran through my brain as a twinge of nostalgia pricked my skin.
On the flight south we sat together in the last row, caught up and reminisced. They told me that often my blog brings them to tears; I told them how much their loyal readership means to me. We traded war stories of our employment, asked after former colleagues, and fawned over Jackie's shoe designs.
I made it to DC safely and called home to check on my boys. Calvin was happy splashing in the bathtub and Michael seemed just fine. And, yes, I am as crazy as I look in this photo, especially when I'm about to be citified.
|Selfie by Jackie Lindstedt|