Leaving, on a jet plane.

Tomorrow morning (at the butt crack of dawn) I leave for Massachusetts to visit my friend whose husband was in a car accident a month ago. He has been discharged from his brain injury rehab center and is finally home. This is great news of course but the daily work of healing is still happening and he and my dear friend still need support.

So off to Massachusetts I go.

I am strangely excited about: having a whole 5 hour block of time on the plane to do nothing but read (what do you want to bet that I spend the whole time watching Rush Hour 8, wishing I could get up to pee but I don't want to disturb the grandma asleep next to me in the aisle and trying to block the oozing arms of a sweaty stranger sitting at the window?), packing just a carry on with NO DIAPERS in sight, and having time (Alone! With no toddler pulling gently at my sleeve schreeching for my attention every second) with my dearest friend at a time when she really needs me.

I am feeling sick inside about leaving my daughter and husband, though. This will be, by far, the longest time I've been away from Zoe. I feel nauseous whenever I am away from them both for a whole day, I cannot imagine what FOUR days will be like. I know they will survive but I will miss them and I know it will be tiring and challenging for CG to run this show on his own. I tried to explain my absence to Zoe but she doesn't get it. All things in the future are "tomorrow" and everything happens in 5 minute increments or "after NAP". I don't envy CG having to explain repeatedly where Mommy is.

But watching them frolic (there really is NO other word for what they were doing) at Venice beach on Monday, I just know they will be okay.