Travelling alone

Obviously, I have travelled without Hillary at various points. Not a lot in the last decade and a half, but it did happen a few times. I'd leave Ontario early. There was that trip to Phoenix. Technically the camping trips with the kids probably count.

But this weekend was the first time I've done a significant travel thing since she died.

Some thoughts.

I got to the airport far earlier than I would have wanted, but later than Hillary would have been comfortable with. That is, I cut my discretionary budget for dealing with traffic, security lineups and her bags being inevitably opened by a fair margin.

As I was packing my stuff and the kids stuff it occurred to me that I didn't have anyone to check my work as it were. There wouldn't be the usual routine of us sitting there with the full suitcases and talking over the things we packed to see if anything sparked a thought about something we'd missed.

The flight home was tough. I'd been away, so the whole flight the subconscious emotional part of my brain was under the impression that I was going home to Hillary. The rational part kept having to pipe in, "Uh, listen, we've been over this before...

For that matter, the situation was somewhat reversed on the flight out. That subconscious emotional part was actually fairly well behaved for nearly the entire trip. It wasn't until we were maybe fifteen minutes from the farm that the rational part of my brain figured out what the rest of it was thinking, "No, she's not going to be at the farm either. Nice try."

I forgot to pack toothpaste.