Way way up high

Between the stars was written on the plane.

*****
I’m on the plane, way up high in the air, flying towards Far Far Away where I’ll be sequestered in a hotel for the week, subjected to many perverse exercises in how to motivate and train an adult salesperson with a brain. Should be fun.

The flight was going along swimmingly until just now. I was carefully moving up the levels ladder of Brickbreaker on my Blackberry. That game is addictive, so if you’ve never played it, don’t start. I’ve reached level 10, although on this flight I was only on seven, I think. The fun thing about playing Brickbreaker on a plane is the little bullet that flies around skips a beat occasionally and sometimes it moves at angles that it really shouldn’t. It makes it interesting.

So I was happily playing along when WHAM! Turbulence. The bad kind, the kind that makes me think of stories of children hitting the overhead compartments if they aren’t buckled in, and serving carts flying through the air, instantly turned from Pepsi-and-peanuts cart to FLYING DEATH BOMB.

I put down my Blackberry.

The pilot came on and told us there is “weather” over Atlanta so we’re in a holding pattern for a while.

I pulled out the trusty laptop. I figure, maybe this is a good time to write some things down.

Every time I get on a plane I pray. I know, it may be self-serving but it’s what I do. I say this prayer during take-off – “Please, God, please let this flight be safe and let me get to [my destination] in one piece and let me get home to see my kids again. Thank you.” Just so’s you don’t think I’m too selfish, I also say – “Thank you, God, thank you for letting us have a safe and uneventful flight” as we land safely.

I feel oddly superstitious writing it down like that, kind of like praying for patience. You don’t want to do that, you’ll just have more things to be patient about.

But pray I do.

Today’s went something like this – “Please, God, please let this flight be safe. Let the meeting go well and please, God, please don’t let anything happen that would hurt my kids while I am gone. Please keep them safe and keep them childlike, unaware of what adults may do to let them down. Thank you.”

And then I was thankful for all the text messages I sent out while waiting for the plane to board. A message to daycare with my parents’ phone numbers in case they needed to pick up the boys. A message to a friend reminding them that I’m out of town this week and to please keep me posted if anything happens.

I’ve not written about this, but a few months ago Cooper had a setback. I was taking him and his brother up to school and we used to go in to the baby center first, then walk through the playground to Cooper’s preschool.

That morning, the teacher in Griffin’s building had burnt some toast in the kitchen and smoke was creeping towards the smoke detector. In a minute, the alarm went off. They have those red commercial fire alarms that have a blinking light on them and are hard-wired to the fire department that’s a few blocks away.

I didn’t think anything of it really.

After I left, the firemen tromped through both schools with their complete riot gear on. Helmets, air tanks, face masks, the whole works. For burnt toast, it was total overkill.

Cooper was severely traumatized and it has taken months for him to get over it. For the first few months I couldn't do something as simple as stand up from sitting on the couch without him freaking out that I was leaving him. Leaving the room he was in was out of the question. Leaving him at school was extremely difficult, and there was a lot of crying involved. Now, we've gotten to a better place where I can actually walk downstairs and back up before he freaks.

He's finally stopped talking about the "firemens" every day, too, and he even agreed to go into Griffin's school last week. Prior to that day, he adamantly refused to step foot in the baby center, no way no how.

So I just really really hope that no policemen or firemen leave their lasting imprint on my impressionable son's psyche this week while I'm gone.

I had a chance to read Elizabeth Edwards’ interview with Oprah before the turbulence hit. I haven’t decided if she’s foolish for staying with her husband or incredibly strong. Either way, she is a good example of how to look at the bright side of things, and how to remain graceful when faced with the worst life can hand you. Plus, she had a baby when she was fifty years old, which totally rocks and is way insane at the same time. I’m 36 and I feel like my window of opportunity to have many more kids is closing, although you all know I would love to. But it isn’t gonna happen.
********

That's when turbulence hit us again and I put away the laptop. I'm now safe in my musty hotel room waiting for my room service quesadilla because I haven't eaten anything all day and it's 4:00. I might eat the couch in here if they don't get here soon.

So I lost my train of thought on the whole Elizabeth Edwards interview, but I do remember this from it. She said her favorite quote is from a song - There is a crack in everything. That's how the light gets in.

I like that.

- H