Therapy
I’m almost positive I’ve written this exact post before. Or something like it.
97% positive.
But we all know that writing is my therapy. Today, I’m in need of some therapy so, I’m still going to write about it-even if it’s repetitive.
I do not look forward to coming home from a trip-especially the kind of trip that you’ve been planning for two and a half months. The kind of trip that includes great music and laughing in the car; a trip to the city and hours with grandparents; yummy meals and fun conversation; basketball games and Sunday at church; and catch-up time with dear friends. Combine all of that into 3 days and add in your best friend, and I was one excited girl.
For days and weeks I thought about the wardrobe I would pack, the snacks I would bring, and the fun that would be delivered in truck loads and had by all. I had the camera charged and packed, my new jersey hung up on what might as well have been a gold-plated hanger, and plenty of plans in my head of laughing and cheering and smiling. And that, I most certainly did.
The grandparents were waiting for us with hugs that only come from the most wonderful grandparents. The Mexican food was just what my tummy ordered and the weather was bright and warm. The Nuggets won their game, thanks to our cheering and heckling, and Denver night lights delivered. Our friends brought us encouragement and wisdom, and going back to Southeast Christian Church was like being at home. As promised, a picture-perfect weekend.
But wait, it’s already Monday?
I’ve mentioned my adjustment disorder, but did I mention my post-travel disorder? (I’m honestly packed-full of emotions that run rampant like bats being chased out of cave.) Don’t get wrong, I enjoyed every millisecond of this past weekend. So much that I’m wishing it could have been like a re-make of Groundhog’s Day. I could have tolerated last weekend over and over and over…
The only sure way to treat this disorder is to plan the next one. (Contentment? I’ll save that for when I’m older and wiser.) So, now I wait. It may not come in the form of a Denver sports event, or a weekend full of chimichangas and green chile, but the next event I have in mind is enough to make this girl excited and eager and relentless and impatient…
97% positive.
But we all know that writing is my therapy. Today, I’m in need of some therapy so, I’m still going to write about it-even if it’s repetitive.
I do not look forward to coming home from a trip-especially the kind of trip that you’ve been planning for two and a half months. The kind of trip that includes great music and laughing in the car; a trip to the city and hours with grandparents; yummy meals and fun conversation; basketball games and Sunday at church; and catch-up time with dear friends. Combine all of that into 3 days and add in your best friend, and I was one excited girl.
For days and weeks I thought about the wardrobe I would pack, the snacks I would bring, and the fun that would be delivered in truck loads and had by all. I had the camera charged and packed, my new jersey hung up on what might as well have been a gold-plated hanger, and plenty of plans in my head of laughing and cheering and smiling. And that, I most certainly did.
The grandparents were waiting for us with hugs that only come from the most wonderful grandparents. The Mexican food was just what my tummy ordered and the weather was bright and warm. The Nuggets won their game, thanks to our cheering and heckling, and Denver night lights delivered. Our friends brought us encouragement and wisdom, and going back to Southeast Christian Church was like being at home. As promised, a picture-perfect weekend.
But wait, it’s already Monday?
I’ve mentioned my adjustment disorder, but did I mention my post-travel disorder? (I’m honestly packed-full of emotions that run rampant like bats being chased out of cave.) Don’t get wrong, I enjoyed every millisecond of this past weekend. So much that I’m wishing it could have been like a re-make of Groundhog’s Day. I could have tolerated last weekend over and over and over…
The only sure way to treat this disorder is to plan the next one. (Contentment? I’ll save that for when I’m older and wiser.) So, now I wait. It may not come in the form of a Denver sports event, or a weekend full of chimichangas and green chile, but the next event I have in mind is enough to make this girl excited and eager and relentless and impatient…
I'm sure that the next "big event" you are referring to is going to see Donald Glover with me and Abby next monday. :D
ReplyDeleteAbsolutely!! I already have THAT outfit picked and ideas for music :-)
ReplyDelete