I was feeling pretty foul today; raging at the uncertainty and tired of the insomnia, and weary from living in a state of readiness unknowing when we'll get the command, leap over borders and go. There are piles of things, detritus from my closet of doom littering the wave lines of my floors. Things need sorting and putting away. Things need selling. Things need purging.
And suitcases need packing. Stella and I have decided to take our vacation, contract or no, move or no, we're going. Now, visas needed transferring from one passport to another. A trip to the airport immigration office slated to eat up our entire afternoon.
Yet. My girl who doesn't sleep, she put her head down on her Papi's pillow and closed her eyes. I left the piles to be piles, trusting that she'd wake in time for us to make it to the visa office. I laid down next to her, and closed my eyes too. This, her first nap with her face squished into a pillow, was to be savoured.
She stayed that way, soundly sleeping for two hours. And I did too.
We almost missed the immigration office. But we didn't. We got to the airport and everything worked out. Everything will be fine. People always say that in crisis, in the face of tears and stress. You never believe them, do you.
But then it is. And you are. And you do.