My husband and I are scheduled to leave for a glorious, active, and long-anticipated vacation this week. It was originally planned for spring, 2020. I believed at the time that virus concerns would be behind us by the fall, but it became a global pandemic so that did not occur. My optimistic nature thought we would take our trip in 2021, as we were heartened by the development of COVID-19 vaccinations. But no such luck. With trepidation, our biking group re-set plans for Portugal in May of this year.
But I am not that invested in adventure travel right now, because, as they say, I am not a fool. (“Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me.”) There is a part of me that thinks the trip will not happen.
This is new for me because it is the flip side of what I usually think, which is that I might not come back. That belief has simmered in the heat of my somewhat anxious subconscious for decades. It does not hinder the anticipation and enjoyment of the trip, but even the wisp of that thought causes me to make lists that might seem merely organizational and tidy. But again, I am no fool. I make the bed before leaving town because I like to come back to an uncluttered and well-groomed bedroom suite. But I also want it to look well-kept in case I do not come home. I do not want my children entering my house, ambling through it, and shaking their heads sorrowfully at household neglect. If they are going to be sad, I want it to be because I am maimed or deceased, not because my life was so chaotic that I left dirty dishes in the sink.
So, I have approached vacation preparation completing the chores that we all do: paying bills (whether or not they come due while I am gone); taking the garbage can to the street; setting an out-of-office email alert; cleaning the house assiduously; and notifying those who need to know about our absence while making it seem like we are still at home for the rest of the population. I updated a document called Financial Cheat Sheet in Case We Kick the Bucket, which contains everything my sons need to know in the event of my demise and reminded them seven times where it is hidden. And, most importantly, I said “I love you,” to my children, family members, and close friends approximately 37 times in the last three days.
But this time I am more worried about not being able to go than I am about not coming back. I finished every pre-departure agenda item with exactitude. I shopped for proper vacation attire, prepared detailed travel schedules, trained diligently for long-distance biking, meticulously reviewed office cases files, coordinated agendas with other group members, purchased a travel-sized WaterPik, and downloaded Audible books. I completed obligatory beauty appointments and rituals. (There is no point in taking photos in exotic destinations with a bad haircut and unpolished toenails.) In any other era, I would be primed and ready to go.
But that is not where I am at. Don and I still need to pass pre-departure PCR COVID tests, a hurtle that seems daunting. I have no illness symptoms, I am fully vaccinated and boosted, and I have been careful to avoid social gatherings for weeks now. But to add to the uncertainty, a pilot strike may result in a cancelled flight to San Francisco so that we miss our flight to Lisbon. There are just so many variables and moving parts. I need the upcoming excursion immensely and it has been delayed so long, I just wonder whether karma will be on my side. It is ironic that believing that the vacation will not occur is more concerning than wondering if I will come back.
Of course, until I find out that I cannot go, I will pretend I still am. This reminds me that I have blog posts to compose and schedule for while I am gone and a lot of laundry to do. I have only three days left to apologize to the family dogs for leaving them behind. I need to load up my Starbucks card in case my credit card company decides that I have been hacked and I need to eat a meal in an airport.
Perhaps worrying about not being able to go is healthier emotionally than fearing I will not return. If so, and my trip gets cancelled, I can console myself – while planning another sojourn.