Brent was kind enough to escort August and I to our gate today, and stayed with us while we waited for our plane to board. Not soon after arriving at the gate, we discovered that our flight to San Francisco was delayed an hour due to fog. Fog? Seriously? We’ve had over one hundred years of fog, and they can’t figure out how to land or take off in it? Airlines will take off in snow, sleet, ice, rain, lightening, but fog, too risky? Anyhow, it was at that moment that I lost it. The pressure of flying home alone and spending the next three days alone with August suddenly welled me up with tears. Brent took August on a walk, while I had a few tears on a black leather chair next to the moving walkway.
It was really only a few tears, and I feel silly even admitting to it now. But it happened, and maybe it was just what I needed to get through the day. It seriously stresses me out thinking about being the sole provider of all entertainment 24/7. Brent handles it so gracefully, and seemingly without fear, that sometimes there’s a bit more pressure because of it. I was watching him this morning as he came up with idea after idea as to how to amuse August, and then says “We had fun”. It is these moments that make me feel like I made a mistake. Maybe Brent is better at taking care of August, and I should have just cut my losses rather than step up to the plate.
The flight was fine. Tiring, of course, but fine. It went by rather quickly in fact. And we got our typical compliment on August’s behaviour. I did feel a bit sorry for the lady behind us. August is becoming quite the flirt, and he’ll chat up any woman who will let him talk about his car, or his book, or anything else that might be on his mind. By the end of the flight, we had at least three ladies that we had to bid farewell to.
In the end, it’s too late for regrets, it’s done. I’ve quit my job, and Brent has a new one. Now I just have to see how it all pans out.