Tuesday, April 23, 2013

This time next week

I will be on an airplane, about half way through what will likely be the second worst day in my life.  The first worst will always be our PCS (permanent change in station) from HYD.  The extreme trauma and sadness of leaving dear friends, the incomprehension of the airline making us repack five carry ons into seven, the frustration when an immigration official tried to tell us we (and the entire US consulate staff) were in the country illegally and we couldn't leave, the frantic run to get on our plane, the lack of sleep of two toddlers over 24 hours, a miserable connection in Frankfurt, a child wetting an airplane seat, the glare from the lady in front of me an hour before landing in Houston when my child started screaming (for the first time in 27 hours of transit).

I almost shouted at that lady that she had no idea what my family had just been through, and who was she to judge a crying three year old?  But, I resisted, disembarked, and collapsed into my mother in law's Accord for the three hour drive to Austin.  Knowing how bad it can be - and knowing that our kiddos were fantastic travelers on more recent Manila-U.S. flights - has obliterated my fear of the upcoming PCS.  But leaving a place is always hard -- even if we are going "home" to the house we have yet to see -- so I still anticipate it being the second worst day.

The house is packed out.  My last cable is out for clearances.  We've started the highly lengthy check out process (39 signatures required).  Bagwelle flies out Friday.  Our car has already arrived in MD.  Still trying to stay in the present, but it's becoming increasingly harder.

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