I'd Have Made a Horrible Time Traveler's Wife

I was the 5-yr-old pampered baby of the family and I vividly remember peering out of the rear window of Nanny’s cherry red Plymouth Fury, tears streaming down my face as the image of my mother standing in front of our house grew smaller and smaller. I was going on my first out-of-town trip sans my parents and I was unbelievably excited, terrified and devastated. I desperately wanted to go stay with my grandmother in Atlanta but couldn’t imagine being away from my mother for a week…

I was a 9-yr-old tomboy and I vividly remember balancing as high on my tiptoes as possible, trying to keep the plane in sight through the cascade of tears that I had tried unsuccessfully to hold back. My sisters were on that plane and they were leaving, not to go back to the college that only took them three hours away from me but this time they were going much, much farther. They were leaving for the University of Hawaii and I was left behind, suddenly the only child in what seemed like a very quiet home…

I was a sullen 15-yr-old, lying in a strange bed in a strange house in a city I had no desire to live in. I watched as the clock flipped from 10:01 p.m. to 10:02…even the clock reminding me of where I wanted to be, in our old house—my home—at 1002 Ponderosa Dr…

I was a 38-yr-old soon-to-be ex-wife, walking out of my house for the last time. One last walkthrough to make sure I had gotten as many of my belongings as I needed, praying that I hadn’t missed anything important, trying unsuccessfully not to think about all of the memories I had made there. Flashes of the first time I walked into that house, barely hearing the buzzing of the real estate agent’s voice as I looked out onto the front yard and envisioned my future children playing there…and there were good memories and horrible ones. Unrealized dreams. It wasn’t my home anymore and hadn’t been for a long time. Nevertheless, the tears fell as I drove away…

I was a 41-yr-old mom and it was my daughter this time, not me, quietly sobbing in the back seat of the car as I drove her to her father’s. She was leaving for her summer trip to her grandmother’s in New York and she was excited, terrified and devastated. She couldn’t wait to see her grandmother but the thought of leaving her mother was just too much to bear. I wanted so badly to be able to reassure her and convince her that she would be fine, that the time would fly by in a blur of new toys and cookies and hugs and fun, and that when the time came to climb back in the car and come home to me she would once again be excited and sad and yes, she would cry as she pulled out of grandma’s driveway…

I remember being so angry at the teary goodbyes of my childhood. I didn’t understand why all the people I loved couldn’t live in the same place. Who would choose to move away from people who were important to them? What far off place could possibly hold appeal over family? And even now, as an adult who has lived other places and who understands the desire to relocate I still have those feelings. I still want the people I love to be near. I don’t like goodbyes.

Read THE TIME TRAVELER’S WIFE yet? If not, I highly recommend it.