I just played solitaire on my laptop for 45 minutes. At no other point in my day, or year, would I ever allow myself such a time-wasting indulgence. But as I write this, I’m flying by myself from Chicago to Phoenix.
Phone is off. People in the seats around me are quietly engaged in their books or magazines. I’ve got a window seat, so i can space out at the squares of farmland and wining rivers below.
I listened to my iPod for most of the 3-hour flight, hearing all sorts of songs I love and which sound so much better staring out an airplane window than while running as fast and hard as I can on the treadmill.
Even though I’m confined to an economy airplane seat, I feel a certain excitement because I have no one to entertain but myself. The peace it brings me is siilar to the way I feel at the end of a yoga class, where I get to lay still for 5 minutes. Only in this case, it’s 3 hours.
Traveling solo feels like a luxury for any mom, but it also fills me with guilt. I feel selfish for leaving my husband with all the childcare responsibilities. Eve worse, it absolutely tears me apart to leave the kids for three days and two nights.
I know how ridiculous that sounds. Three days? Gimme a break. But being a working mom, I already feel like I’m away from my kids too much. Now I’m choosing to be away from them even more, and not for work-related reasons. I’m just going to spend a few days with my sister whom I dearly miss.
You gotta live in the moment, right? I think, in this moment, I’m getting my groove back.