My anxiety had nothing at all to do with the conference or speaking in front of a large group of people. I was okay with all of that, and I was really excited and looking forward to seeing my blogging friends, many for the first time.
I was afraid of another tearful good bye. I was afraid of being away from home. I was afraid that I would not enjoy myself because I missed my family so much. I was afraid that I would Ã¢â‚¬“ again Ã¢â‚¬“ have to send Joe and Grace away too soon because I felt an imminent breakdown.
I was afraid that something terrible would happen to my airplane, and that I’d never come home.
I felt sick.
And I felt weepy.
When my work day over, I bolted for the door. Before long, my mom, my sister, Joe, Grace, and I were sitting in the airport, waiting.
Knowing that I would not arrive in Asheville until after 9 pm, I bought a very large cheese and berry turnover and a cherry Coke.
I still felt sick, and the pastry was the only thing that sounded even remotely appetizing.
Apparently, it sounded appetizing to Grace, too.
Mommy, I have bite? She asked me with eyebrows raised.
“Sure,” I replied, holding the pastry out for her to bite.
After she got one bite, she took another. I asked for a bite of my own turnover.
She handed it over, but quickly took it back for another bite.
We take turns, Mommy. We take turns! Grace was very matter-of-fact in her assessment of the situation.
Everyone laughed. “You’re taking turns, all right,” my sister told Grace.
When I extended my hand to ask for another bite of my turnover, Grace gave me a disapproving look and said, I break off your own piece. For Mommy.
My own piece?!?! of my own pastry? I was hungry and nauseous and starting to feel a little grumpy, but I kept my comments to myself.
“Sure, Grace. That would be nice.”
She broke off my own piece, all right. A sliver. A morsel. A single bite of berry and cheese turnover. She kept the rest for herself.
Everyone laughed as I stared at my piece, dumbfounded. “That’s my own piece, huh?”
Yep. That’s you piece.
I popped my piece into my mouth and asked for another.
With her eyes, Grace told me that I was asking a bit much. So I did the only logical thing. I snatched the pastry back.
We take turns, Mommy, Grace reminded me, snatching it back after I had one bite.
We take turns.
Fortunately for me, I had time for a snack in Atlanta.
© 2009 – 2012, Tara Ziegmont. All rights reserved.