Mar. 17th, 2011 | 11:20 am
It occurs to me that I haven't been on a plane since I was twenty-two. That is likely why I am so anxious about it now. A lot has changed since then, and the fact is, an eight hour flight over the Atlantic is different than the hop-skip-and a jump it takes from my place (an hour from Toronto, Ontario) to see Mickey Mouse. Yes, my early-twenties proved to be the ideal time to meet Mickey. We didn't have much money growing up, so a family trip to see Disney was out of the question. That said, I enjoyed going most as an adult. I love the fact that I can remember every little detail. (Daily parades, the incredible costumes, the smell of roasting peanuts in the air) Everywhere you turned, something else to look at or touch. My favourite thing ever? Tomorrow Land. Who doesn't enjoy the thrill of possibilities and that tantilizing hint of the future? It didn't hurt that I got to skip the line for everything we did. It seems those in wheelchairs are treated like royalty in the land of Walt. The red, velvet ropes were being lifted long before I even made it to the entrance of the attraction. I remember commenting to Mom that they must have us on some sort of radar...
Anyway, it was a great trip (minus the food poisoning we got the night before we left for home.) That was the one and only trip I took while I had my cats. I had asked a friend to stay at my place with them and came home to overflowing food bowls, filthy litter boxes, and two very pissed off cats. The moment I opened the door, I expected this over-the-top "We missed you, Mommy" greeting. What I got was two nasty glares as they marched past me into the hall. They ran around outside my door, happily playing together, sending a clear message "You left us, so we're returning the favour." It was almost comical, except I had missed them terribly and wanted some serius cuddles. By day's end, they granted my wish. It seems they had made their point and were now ready to forgive me. I had one cat in my lap, the other snuggled on my shoulder, purring contentedly in my ear. I never left them after that. The simple truth is, I didn't want to. So, we became the three musketeers. What I missed in traveling, I found instead at home. I've never regretted it. Anyone who ever saw us together could see how close we were. We spent a lot of time together making that happen, it was my true joy. But now I am without both, and I must admit, I'll be glad to get out of here. It will be a relief not to be stuck in this apartment by myself, waiting for the day I feel whole again, because I've already figured out that it's not going to happen. When people/animals die, they take pieces of you with them, just as I carry pieces of who they were with me. It's all part of the deal. Loving and losing, I just wish it didn't hurt so damn much.
Anyway, it was a great trip (minus the food poisoning we got the night before we left for home.) That was the one and only trip I took while I had my cats. I had asked a friend to stay at my place with them and came home to overflowing food bowls, filthy litter boxes, and two very pissed off cats. The moment I opened the door, I expected this over-the-top "We missed you, Mommy" greeting. What I got was two nasty glares as they marched past me into the hall. They ran around outside my door, happily playing together, sending a clear message "You left us, so we're returning the favour." It was almost comical, except I had missed them terribly and wanted some serius cuddles. By day's end, they granted my wish. It seems they had made their point and were now ready to forgive me. I had one cat in my lap, the other snuggled on my shoulder, purring contentedly in my ear. I never left them after that. The simple truth is, I didn't want to. So, we became the three musketeers. What I missed in traveling, I found instead at home. I've never regretted it. Anyone who ever saw us together could see how close we were. We spent a lot of time together making that happen, it was my true joy. But now I am without both, and I must admit, I'll be glad to get out of here. It will be a relief not to be stuck in this apartment by myself, waiting for the day I feel whole again, because I've already figured out that it's not going to happen. When people/animals die, they take pieces of you with them, just as I carry pieces of who they were with me. It's all part of the deal. Loving and losing, I just wish it didn't hurt so damn much.
No comments:
Post a Comment