I don't really know when to start. Is today my second day or my fourth? Technically I have been traveling since Monday, September 15th, however the program I am on only started yesterday.
On Monday September 15th, my dad woke me up at 6:30. I had barely been able to sleep and had a cramp in my neck. We shuffled around the house a mixture of urgency and sadness. My brother awkwardly hugged me a good twenty minutes before I left right above the stairs. And then proceeded to spend the rest of the time asking my parents why he had to walk the dog at this ungodly hour, and why both of them HAD to drop me off at the airport. A classic display of Wyatt's emotional insensitivity and blissful ignorance of emotionally charged moments. I remember the last thing I said to Buffalo, as she sat by the door, begging to go for a walk. "Don't look at me like that, Wyatt's the one who has to take care of you." Now it seems possibly the most depressing statement that escaped my lips that morning. We climbed into two different cars. I drove with my Dad. We generally talked about logistics, and how beautiful DC looked in the morning. No mention of the foreboding tearing apart of my life that was right around the corner. We checked in at AA and sat at the Starbucks. My favorite Starbucks in the entire DC area, simply because its been my sanctuary before long journeys so many times. I begged them to continue waiting until the last possible moment. My last moments with my parents were light hearted and absolutely hysterical. Those last few minutes summarize my view on my parents. They were loving, caring, clearly worried but didn't want me to know it and cracked jokes the entire time. If I could sit at the Starbucks table with them for the rest of my life, just talking, I would be just fine. We said goodbye and as I walked though security, I silently began to sob. Embarrassed I buried my head into sleeve, constantly waving back at them. Refusing to let go. I waited at the gate, missing my best friends with ferocious fire that tore through my chest. I got on the plane at a window seat. And my mom called. Now due to the architecture of National Airport, if you stand outside of security you can look down through the windows at all the planes lined up. My parents stood by the window waving the entire time. I quickly located them, directed by my mother of the phone. It was incredibly heart-wrenching. They were simply waving at a window unable to make out my face. I was waving back at them knowing they couldn't see me but praying that they could feel it. And So thats how I took of for my journey, looking insane to my fellow passengers, waving outside an airplane window at the two most important people in my life, feeling utterly and completely loved. Probably a metaphor for my whole life or something.
On Monday September 15th, my dad woke me up at 6:30. I had barely been able to sleep and had a cramp in my neck. We shuffled around the house a mixture of urgency and sadness. My brother awkwardly hugged me a good twenty minutes before I left right above the stairs. And then proceeded to spend the rest of the time asking my parents why he had to walk the dog at this ungodly hour, and why both of them HAD to drop me off at the airport. A classic display of Wyatt's emotional insensitivity and blissful ignorance of emotionally charged moments. I remember the last thing I said to Buffalo, as she sat by the door, begging to go for a walk. "Don't look at me like that, Wyatt's the one who has to take care of you." Now it seems possibly the most depressing statement that escaped my lips that morning. We climbed into two different cars. I drove with my Dad. We generally talked about logistics, and how beautiful DC looked in the morning. No mention of the foreboding tearing apart of my life that was right around the corner. We checked in at AA and sat at the Starbucks. My favorite Starbucks in the entire DC area, simply because its been my sanctuary before long journeys so many times. I begged them to continue waiting until the last possible moment. My last moments with my parents were light hearted and absolutely hysterical. Those last few minutes summarize my view on my parents. They were loving, caring, clearly worried but didn't want me to know it and cracked jokes the entire time. If I could sit at the Starbucks table with them for the rest of my life, just talking, I would be just fine. We said goodbye and as I walked though security, I silently began to sob. Embarrassed I buried my head into sleeve, constantly waving back at them. Refusing to let go. I waited at the gate, missing my best friends with ferocious fire that tore through my chest. I got on the plane at a window seat. And my mom called. Now due to the architecture of National Airport, if you stand outside of security you can look down through the windows at all the planes lined up. My parents stood by the window waving the entire time. I quickly located them, directed by my mother of the phone. It was incredibly heart-wrenching. They were simply waving at a window unable to make out my face. I was waving back at them knowing they couldn't see me but praying that they could feel it. And So thats how I took of for my journey, looking insane to my fellow passengers, waving outside an airplane window at the two most important people in my life, feeling utterly and completely loved. Probably a metaphor for my whole life or something.
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