My husband and I spent the holidays in Negril, Jamaica and it was amazing. It was the first time we’ve ever been away from home for Christmas, and I have to admit I was a basket-case in the weeks leading up to our holiday, but it was so great; we’ve decided we’re going to do it every year.
Christmas morning I was up around 4:30 because I still hadn’t finished packing... Truth be known, I hadn’t even started. As you know, I put events completely out of my mind until I have to face them, and this was one of them. But I digress...
Christmas morning... I grabbed all the stuff that was still hanging to dry from the night before, and proceeded to lay it out on the bed in the spare room. …I’m not sure what I was thinking because we had to leave no later than 6:15, and I was running out of time, but I seemed to think it was important to take a picture of everything before I packed. ...You know just in case they lost my suitcase?!
After about an hour Gary got up and not only had I failed at putting anything in the suitcase, I hadn’t showered, or eaten anything yet. ...I think part of me wanted to miss the flight, but as you know I don’t think rationally when I’m in that headspace.
I sort of snap out of it, rush down the hallway, and have my shower. When I’m done drying my hair, I head back into the spare room and proceed to cram everything that was on the bed, into the suitcase. As I’m hastily throwing things in, I realize it won’t all fit, so I’m forced to leave some of it on the bed. ...Hoping that all I’m leaving behind are doubles and triples of things, instead of what I truly need.
When I’m done cramming, I close the suitcase and start tugging on the zipper but I can’t get it to budge… I shift my weight so I’m leaning over it, make sure everything is tucked in and try tugging on the zipper again. I pull and tug, and tug and pull, but it won’t budge. My body temperature starts to rise and I feel like my body is going to combust. The sweat starts coming out of every pore of my body, and runs into my eyes and I have to close them because they start to sting.
The next think I know is I’m laughing; not funny ha-ha laughter, but the kind of laughter that borders on hysteria and then I start crying… I feel Gary’s hand on my shoulder and instead of criticizing me for packing too much he gently pushes me aside, and proceeds to zip up my over-stuffed suitcase. When he’s done he turns to me, hugs me and reassures me the zipper was just stuck, and that it had nothing to do with me packing too much. (Have I told you how much I love this man?!)
Anyway, the rest of the holiday was incredible! I worked myself into a frenzy in the weeks leading up to it, and it really was all for naught. We didn’t get hijacked, we didn’t crash and the door-locks in Jamaica work just as well as the ones in Canada.
Stay safe and stay strong!