Butterflies and Fish (1/18/11)

The sun wasn’t up yet, but my entire household was.  In an effort to not forget anything, my suitcases had been packed for nearly two weeks and placed in the car the night before last.  I was in the expected “stay busy and keep moving so you don’t cry” mode and delayed the inevitable tears, even as they were beginning to build.  “Just grab your purse and laptop, kiss the dog, kiss your parents and get gone.” I must have said that line in my head twenty times while wrapping up the last minute things I’d sworn I’d already done. Finally, I forced myself out into the cool morning air and onto the driveway.  There, in the driver’s seat of my car, sat my “big” little brother.  He was chipper and sweet, a nice surprise for such an early morning.  I knew he was going to get to me to the airport without any snags.  I hugged and kissed my parents for the umpteenth time and then, feeling like a small child, faced them and proudly declared, “I love you!”, before hopping into the car I adored.  Off we went, moving down the freeway as quickly as the sun was rising, singing songs we both knew, in between big gulps of coffee and bites of a cranberry orange (my favorite) scone.  I tried to multi-task as much as possible to keep my brain busy.  I put on my make-up as he drove.  We sang, and ate, and drank.  One tiny snag, and twenty minutes later, we arrived at John Wayne Airport earlier than anticipated. (Note to you folks in Orange County – the 55 S carpool lane will allow you to merge onto the 405 S carpool lane.  There is just one problem with that. The double yellows don’t open up until after the airport exit!)  As he pulled into the “Departing Flights” lane I swear an entire flutter of butterflies migrated straight to my stomach and began flying in erratic circles desperately seeking an escape.  They made me queasy.  I took one last large swallow of my caramel macchiato, as if to drown them momentarily, and flung the coupe’s door open.  I popped out of my seat, like it was on fire, and yelled over to my brother, who was pulling my bags from the trunk, that I had no idea how I was going to get all of this stuff inside of there, pointing to the luggage and then to the ticket counter across the curb. He laughed a playful, “you’ll be fine” laugh, hugged me and wished me well.  Instantly I was a pack mule, dragging two very large suitcases, an oversized, overstuffed purse and a ridiculously heavy laptop case, behind me toward the automatic glass doors.  I stopped, dead in my tracks, bags nearly crashing to the ground, and watched him drive away.  Realizing I was headed from one portion of the “big sea” to another, I waved farewell to my car, my brother, my life. And in a blink of an eye, that “little fish” swam away…