Brave Valentine #7: To the expert pilots that flew us through a hair-raising storm last night.
Hello team Valentine!
Please forgive the short pause in expressions of affection. I know you are waiting with baited breath for my story about my transformation to finger-wagging Joan Crawford(because he wouldn’t fricken blow his nose! Why don’t they do that? I’m not suggesting he pull out his own fingernails. If they blow their nose, they will feel better and avoid getting an ear infection) and K quietly but pointedly telling me to shut up. It’s coming.
And I need to write a valentine to K’s preschool community for putting on such a fabulous bash in the form of the school auction. Seriously, it was one of best parties in my life as a parent. Embedded in that party valentine is my deep devotion to my new group of parent friends. More on that later too.
And, I have clearance from my friend, Eliza to talk about her recent realization that while she really wants to have sex again, she is afraid. Very afraid. Because the last time she had sex, it ended with her co-parenting with someone whom she does not respect or admire. Now she is yoked for life to someone who is in not her friend.
I KNOW! This is all important and tantalizing.
But today, March 7 2011, my heart belongs to the pilot and copilot who landed our plane in a crazy, bad, windy storm last night.
Holy Moly, it was scary. I don’t remember the last time I was that scared on a plane. Here’s an important note: I’m not a fearful flyer. I actually like a bit of turbulence, it feels like someone is rocking me.
But this was no 'rockabye, baby' action. No. This was glasses-clinking-then-breaking and “Flight attendants take your seat immediately” shit.
And, this was the first time as a parent that I had a hairy flight so it was all the more heightened. Needless to say, we landed safely. But I did some praying and I pulled out all of my tricks I learned from my meditation class. ALL of them. Sheesh, I was glad to have something to do. Also, I’m grateful to the Backyardigans and to John Williams(again) who kept K engaged and laughing while I was contemplating the Void.
While staring down the barrel of my mortality, I realized this might be my last chance to deliver my ‘mission statement’ as it were, to K. If I’m going to die, what do I need to tell him? Here’s what I came up with:
Side note: Nose blowing is NOT a Grand Scheme item, so we can both let that go.
First, K, you are so clever, and inquisitive and exquisite, for that matter. Because of all of this, you can do ANYTHING. Truly, you can do anything you want with your life. All you need is a clear vision of what you want to do and discipline to implement your dreams. Dream specifically, dream often, dream BIG, my love. And then work hard.
You can be as big, as bold, as ground-breaking as you want. You have everything it takes. (No one ever told me that. I had to tell myself and it would have saved time if that message had come from the outside as well as the inside.)
Second, and just as important, no matter what great things you accomplish—and you will do wonderful, life-enhancing work-- keep your handsome, giving heart in tact. Because if you don’t practice sharing and compassion, none of your amazing feats will not be any fun or mean much.
Never forget that my times with you have been the best of my life. I am so proud of you.
So. The quick, near-death, life message is done. Can check that off the list.
XOXO again to the fabulous, hard-working pilots.
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