Packed bags

Whenever I pack my bags, it almost always indicates I am going somewhere and hopefully it means goodtimes will follow. In my lifetime this has always signaled a point of hope and the greatest of memories, with few exceptions like when the trips have been to mourn the loss of loved ones.

Getting out my suit cases signals joy in my heart and the smell of musty luggage triggers the floods of many, many things. Like the trip across the country with the almost infamous G-ma as a teenager, a trip that we both remember with different edges. Hers are harder than mine.

Seldom have I regretted getting out my bags, even when I was asking a man to leave me. It was past time for the ending of that chapter and it was time for him to go. Getting packed for this trip was a great joy and the first time I had packed up a "family" of children for any trip. I barely knew what all to take and literally took one of everything but a pair of snow skis. (There is not any snow in these parts right now.) But, I was excited to get out the bags and choose just the right yuppie little outfits for my kids. I wanted them to look cute.

And I had a hard time limiting my selection so I over packed for them by a lot.

What I did not factor in to this whole event was how it would look to a little four year old who has been packed up four other times already in life. These suit cases do not signal new adventures and fun memories but New Mommies and Daddies.

This child was certain that we were delivering them to a new home, not taking them to the Zoo.

Makes my journey with Multiple Sclerosis pale in comparison.

Truly it does.