The Longest Day: Part 1

AJ:  Ready for Departure!

3:00 Sunday 9/4/11.  Chicago O'Hare International Airport

As the clock ticked past 11:30 last night, my eyes grew heavy, and I turned off my beside light -- only to jolt into sleep-chasing panic by the bright dawning of awareness -- "YIKES!  My last night in my own bed .  . . my last night in Elgin. . .  how will I find my Sevilla bed?  Will I be able to sleep? Will the pillows be too hard, the sheets too rough, the Spanish nightlife too loud? . . . " Oy vay, the trivial concerns that assayed the walls of my sleep.

 But, as I have found throughout these pre-journey months, mid-life may interupt my sleep, but journey-related worries fail vanguish my general well being.  Despite the challenges we have faced (and ignoring previously documented moments of complete hysteria),  I have been blessed with a sense that "It will be fine," and now,  standing on the brink of the unknown, I find that I am more excited than nervous, more confident than afraid.  I remain convinced that the challenges we have faced  and will face are all part of the journey -- and all part of something AJ and I are  supposed to do.  That is not to say AJ's emotional state has followed the same route.  Over the past year of planning, while I fretted through endless VISA details, crammed Spanish vocabulary, and crunched the budget numbers, my confident teen has shrugged in ignorant bliss -- until Saturday afternoon. Suddenly, reality hit him like a penalty kick to the solar plexus.  His excited cry that "We're going to SPAIN," took on  desperate tone, his grip on my shoulders a painful intensity.  Egad.  My  unflappable little one was nervous!  Deep and intentional breathing has gotten us through life-altering challenges in the past seven years;  it has served us equally well in the past 24 hours. 

At 3:00 this afternoon, we sit at O'Hare airport, our selves and our carry-ons safely passed through security, our "equipaje" safely checked, and  "no tenemos ni problemas."  AJ's panic has subsided (aided by strange games he plays on his i-pod), and the predictable routine of the airport gates lulls us into lemming-like docility. 

9:00 am, Monday, 05/09/11 Madrid International Airport

What a strange feeling to open this document to see "at 3:00 this afternoon."  Seems like days have passed since we sat at O'Hare. Through a comfortable but interminable international flight, neither of us could sleep, but now, it's 9:00 in the morning in Madrid, and we have just had our lovely pastries -- apple for AJ and butter croissant for me-- and our refrescos.  Let's just say that Coca-Cola in Spain is not the same as Coca-Cola in America.  In fact, Diet Coke is "Coke Light" here!  And it tastes funny.
I am truly at an interesting threshold -- I thrill to hear Spanish spoken next to me and perk up to see if I can understand.  I am slow to realize that everyone is speaking Spanish. AJ and I were excited that we understood most of the instructions on the plane even before the English repetition.  We're still thinking in English of course, and yet, as I type,  I often have to stop myself midway into a Spanish word.  Our spoken language is already similarly peppered with Spanish-- Language is contagious!  On the other hand, because I don't speak the language fluently, I find that I can "tune out" much more easily.  An unusual opportunity to hear my own thoughts may be one benefit of my modest language skill! 

As I observe the comings and goings, waiting for our next flight, the European men deserve a word or two.  If men in America dressed like European men, one gender would call most of them "gay" and the other would call most of them" hot".  Holy Moly. Lovely suits -- flashy ties, shiny black shoes even  with jeans, long hair on some, edgy short hair on others. Mmm-hmm.   The poorly dressed men -- with elastic waisted pants and striped polo shirts? I kid you not -- they all speak American English!

Sigh.