Hearing my girl let out a cry as I walked away almost undid me. I thought about not turning around but I wanted to give her a smile and a wave. Some kind of reassurance because maybe if I was okay – she would be okay.
I managed to wait by the doors and wave to them as they drove away. Waving and blowing kisses and then they were gone. And as soon as I was through the doors I broke down and let the tears come.
This is the longest I will ever have been away from my two girls. And I know the two weeks will pass in the blink of an eye and I will be back with them – and all the other people at home that I love. And so I have to focus on the here and now. On an adventure all of my own. On the adventure that my soul is craving.
The craving is real but the reality is way out of my comfort zone. Starting with a 10 hour flight for a woman that really doesn’t like to fly. When I fly with my kids I am forced to put on a brave face so they don’t see my fear and adopt it as my own. But this…well…there is no one to be brave for.
Except myself. And that is the real point of this trip. To finally understand what I need is important. And being brave for myself is just as important – if not MORE important – than being brave for my children. Because a brave face is just that…a face. A mask. A cover-up.
I am determined to make this trip so much more than a tour of some amazing European cities. This trip isn’t about finding myself – I’ve always been here – it’s about allowing myself to remember who I actually am. In my soul, in my bones, in my blood.
And so it begins. Dublin here I come…