Wrong Suitcase

I know that wrong suitcase feeling so well, Hilary - every time I gear up to go on a trip - and especially around the holidays - I am in a complete panic that I will somehow get it wrong. I won't bring the right suitcase, I will forget all the presents, I'll lose my ID or tickets, I'll bring all the wrong clothes - the list goes on.

The funniest part about it, really, is that on those rare occasions when things have gone all wrong - flights missed, baggage lost, medication misplaced, no coat brought and a blizzard in the offing - it always gets fixed. Clothes can be bought or borrowed, doctors and pharmacists can be called, and there's almost always another flight in an hour or six. But we almost all approach trips as if we were in the final scenes of a Hollywood movie, where if the flight is missed, the person not found immediately, we have lost our one and only chance to ever fly to that place or see that person. If you don't catch your boyfriend/girlfriend/fiancee/spouse/master spy at EXACTLY that moment before their plane takes off and they leave forever, you will never see them again. Apparently, in the movies no one has cell phones, email, or even a Post Office Box at which to receive messages about missed flights and opportunities.

And that's exactly how I feel before trips, even if they are to a conference half an hour away on the commuter railroad. Anything I don't remember is lost to me forever. And maybe that is just what Claudia was saying about holidays: if we don't remember, who will?