The day before she was leaving for Mexico my friend Peg came over so we could walk our dogs around the block. She was running her customary few minutes late so Charlie and I were standing in the driveway to meet her. Peg lifted Luna, her puppy, from the car and off we went on slow slog that would combine frequent frantic leash-tangling (Luna) and interminable sniffing of every little thing (Charlie).
What time are you leaving tomorrow? I asked.
Crack of dawn. We have to be out and on our way to the airport at five-thirty a.m.
At this point I was still 48 hours from my trip to Florida, and my brain was already squirreling over what I might fit in my carry-on.
Peg’s voice was calm, her pace patient. Looking down at her phone she said, good. That’s the driver. He can take us to the airport.
I don’t know how you do it, I said. To just nail down a big logistical detail now? I get so anxious before I travel. I’m a mess.
Oh, I’m a mess, she said.
Now, when I’m a mess, it’s no secret. I soothe myself by including others in my freakout in the hopes they might empathize or sympathize. Not Peg. She just needed to briefly exit the swirling vortex of departure preparation, and a slow walk around the block offered just that.
I guess when it comes to worry, you can tangle yourself up in it and wait for help or create distance by focusing purely on the moment.
In other words, I am Luna, and Peg is Charlie. It’s not easy, it’s not pretty, but with a little help from our friends, we get where we need to be.