Sylvia's Journal

All our aches and pains were overshadowed by a call from a sobbing Tessa yesterday morning. Her pet rabbit Nijntje died, suddenly. Tessa was inconsolable. Axel and I cried along with her on the phone, wishing our arms could reach all the way into London to hold her. Her pain was made worse because she couldn’t locate Steve at first and there was no one to console her or simply be with her. Tessa had poured all her love in this little creature which she got on her 18th birthday and which had been so much a part of her life after high school. And now it is no longer there. Our hearts are aching for her.

Later, after we had hung up, it occurred to me that we got a glimpse of Tessa’s reaction when the news of our crash finally reached her last July. Not that rabbits and parents are the same, but when it comes to being the object of love, maybe they are.

This sad news colored the day, which was already sad because of our imminent parting; add to that the early nightfall, the leaves falling and hurricane Noel racing up the coast to soak the Northeast. It could easily have added up to a sense of foreboding and depression. But it did not. I was excited and looking forward to the trip while Axel knew that this going out into the world was another important milestone for me on my path to recovery. My excitement was matched by a most glorious sunset over Boston as Sita and Jim drove me to the airport. Axel watched it from the cove. The sky was lit up with brilliant orange and pink streaks of clouds against a dark background. I think the storm was announcing itself in full Technicolor.

Navigating the airport was a different experience than I had expected. I travelled with my plastic boot which helped me avoid a significant part of the security line which snaked for a long distance. I could not see myself standing in line that long and asked for a short cut. A couple of Brits were standing right where I was let into the line and got upset. When I pointed at my boot they softened a bit. They asked what happened to me. When I said ‘a plane crash’ all the women in the group crossed themselves and the men asked whether I was flying on Virgin. They seemed to think that I would be a liability on their plane. I told them I wasn’t planning on crashing ever again in my life and that I was going on Northwest which therefore would be the safest choice of airline.

Later, after security I discovered the stresses of being handicapped when the line in back relentlessly pushed forward while I was still trying to collect all my belongings and put on my boot. I know that travel is stressful, even for the totally fit. Security adds more stress and it becomes hard to see other people’s needs. We’re all in our own little balloons, trying to get wherever we want to go, in one piece and with all our stuff. That’s when the truly kind people stand out, like the young man who took my handluggage and said, hey, I’ve been waiting in this line for so long, I can wait this little longer, take your time.

I am posting this entry from Amsterdam. My next post, if there is anything to tell about a whole day of travel, will come from Nairobi, incha’allah. Please hold Tessa in your thoughts and prayers. She needs them.