Friday, April 24, 2009

I fear travel

Actually, I don't fear travel so much as I fear what happens after the traveling is done.

Colin died shortly after arriving home from a several-weeks-long business trip, and it sticks in my mind. He'd been gone for two weeks, only coming home on the weekends.

I was gone for a week on a business trip several months ago, and despite being thoroughly distracted with the business, I worried about my husband. I worried that I'd come home to find him dead in a big, puddly mess.

I'm preparing to go on another trip next week (thankfully for just three days), but I'm facing that same anxiety.

I know the situations are not the same at all; I know that I have no reason to worry about this. I get that it's illogical. I understand that it's just nervous, unfounded, ridiculous fear on my part.

But it sits inside me, like a growth on my heart: a small, sharp, constant fear.

Sometimes, much as I love Colin, I really hate him too.

It's a funny sort of thing.


Mantramine said...

Well, not to be insensitive... but, it was *rude* of him, no?

I hope your trip is good and that you don't not blog while you're gone. K?


Jade said...

This comment epitomises why I love you so much.

Gin said...

Hang in there, have a great trip. You will be okay. (Smiles & Hugs)

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