Transparent Tuesdays

Issue 172

You guys,

“Mama, hold hand.”

George is strapped in his car seat and sits in the window seat of the airplane, which picks up speed on the runway. As it does, the engine gets louder and louder. I figure he’s scared, and wrap my hand around his little one to assure him. I look straight ahead, but as we lift into the air he yells, “Mama, look, look!” 

I don’t like to look. I don’t like to fly. I prefer the aisle seat, and to squeeze Sam’s hand as tightly as I squeeze my eyes shut through takeoff until it no longer feels like we’re catapulting through the air. At which point I try to distract myself with a podcast or a book. I don’t want to imagine another plane crashing into us but always do. I’m sure they’ve got that kind of thing figured out up there — traffic control and all that, but I worry, anyway.

I look to see what George sees. Blue sky, white clouds, big ocean below. 

“Wow!” I say, hoping to mask my fear with wonder. George smiles, enthralled by all of it, and lets go of my hand. 

I’m in the middle seat, a toddler on either side and Sam on the other side of the row. Layla was fussy before takeoff but now dozes thanks to the deafening roar of the plane, a perfect sound machine. It’s naptime for both kids, but there will be no chance of George sleeping on this flight. He loves flying. He loves the airport. He even loves suitcases. 

Sam recently went on a 3-night solo trip and when he came home rejuvenated, told me I should take a trip by myself. I thought of where I would go, who I would see, and couldn’t come up with a good option. My best friend lives in my hometown, which is the last place I want to go without my husband and kids by my side. My other best friend lives in LA, and that’s way too far a trip to only go for a few days. 

The more I thought about it, the more I realized I was making excuses because I was scared to fly somewhere by myself. I didn’t want to go anywhere without my family, and if I did, I feared something bad would happen, like my plane would go down and I’d die, for example. 

My therapist told me this is a normal mom thing, which makes me feel slightly less crazy. 

When I think about taking a long drive somewhere, it doesn’t scare me nearly as much as flying, which is weird since I was in a car accident earlier this year. There’s just something about flying that has always made me nervous. The way my stomach drops as the plane ascends, the way turbulence has me gripping the armrests and trying to make eye contact with the flight attendant to make sure everything is okay. 

I always remember that stupid movie, Final Destination. I never even watched the whole thing, but there’s a scene in the beginning when they’re at the airport, and someone gets a bad feeling and says they shouldn’t get on the plane, and at the last moment they don’t. And then as the plane takes off and they all can see it from the window, it explodes. The plane fucking explodes. Now every time I see a plane take off, I wait to see if it will explode. 

As the plane starts its descent, I ask George if he wants to hold my hand again. He says no. 

A minute later, he reaches for me. “Mama, hold hand.”

I do, gladly. 

But this time I don’t think it’s because he’s scared. I think he knows I am. 

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Bleecker Bombs

A new podcast episode is out!

Sam and I learned about a new term — Casuals — and we can’t stop talking about it. I’d love to hear from you guys: What do you think about Casuals? Where do you fall on the spectrum? What’s the opposite of a Casual?

Listen to the episode on overcast.fm, Spotify, Apple Podcasts, or Google Podcasts.

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Until next week,

Charlie