Pre-Trip Drama

I was going to go to Italy alone.  That was the original plan.  My mom, who will dispute it to all who know and love her, suffers from anxiety.  She thought it was a great idea for me to get out of the city, and make a move- any move, other than turning to my side in my bed to better stare at the wall- but could not bear the thought of me traveling alone.  She started out with trying to get me to take my husband.

Happily, Tim had no interest in going.  I say happily because this was to be a Mommy/Cory adventure of epic proportions.  The last thing I wanted to do was turn it into a strained, look-like-your -having-fun-every-moment would be romantic getaway.  In other words, the last thing I wanted was to make my daughter's memorial trip into "kissy-kissy"  moonlit gondola rides and bland hotel sex.

Mom's next idea was to see if Tim would be interested if we made it into a family vacation.  This was even worse yet.  To be at every café, staring across the table at Tim and his mini-me, while my totebag kept Cory's seat beside me warm would not be healing.  It would be every meal out that I endured back home.  No new perspectives to be had there.

Repeatedly, I assured Mom that I was perfectly capable of traveling abroad on my own.  I know how to get on a plane.  I can read signs.  I know how to ask for help.  She was having none of it.  She had watched "Taken", and was convinced that the kind Italian folk over there would get one glimpse at me traveling alone- a female- and slap a burlap sack over my head, and chain me to a wall somewhere.

This made me feel that my dear mother might secretly think I was a little stupid.  Since the majority of my sisters agreed with her thoughts of women traveling alone, I also felt a bristling of feminist pride...did they honestly think you must have a penis in order to see the world or what?

When I discussed Mom's concerns with Tim, he used his dry humor to put things into perspective.  He explained to me as I folded towels, "It's like this, honey-  no offense, cause I personally think you are totally hot....but, you are almost forty.  Even if the major tourist areas you will be visiting are full of criminals looking for sex slave prospects...you're almost forty- financially speaking, it just wouldn't be a good investment."

Tim isn't the funny one in our relationship, but at that I burst into laughter.
"Right?"  I said.  "You get it."

Mom did not.  In a last ditch effort to preserve my safety, she volunteered to go with me.  At first I laughed her off, but began to give it a little more thought.  Cory's untimely death has taught me that tomorrow, and any future plans you may have to spend time with your loved ones, is not promised.  When would I ever have another chance to spend that much time with my mom?  It held a certain sort of poetic sense...a mother/daughter trip to replace the mother/daughter trip that should have taken place with my girl.

Mom and I went to get our passports, and then all the other opinions about a seventy-five woman traveling abroad began to weigh in.  If I wasn't worried to begin with about whether or not it would be too much walking for her to handle or if she would have some type of diabetic attack and collapse into one of the fountains, I certainly had them now.  Word on the street (aka the sibling grapevine) was that Mom really did not want to go on the trip; she was only going because her anxiety insisted that I not travel alone.

I confronted Mom; she denied these rumors vehemently, even appearing to be sincerely offended. 

A couple days later, lounging, depressed in my bed, I heard my cellphone ringing, and picked it up.  It was Mom's number, but she would not respond, although she appeared to be having an animated conversation with someone else.

She had butt-dialed me!  Getting ready to hang up, I heard my name, and pressed my ear to the receiver.  I heard something along the lines of, "Well, her dad and I hoped she would give up the idea or at least decide to go somewhere closer to home, but she is just bound and determined.  I know.  I know.  I am worried about it, too.  But I just don't know what else to do.  I can't let her go alone!
Silently, I clicked off, feeling sick and betrayed.  I mused on this information for a couple days before revealing my eavesdropping intell to her in her own kitchen, as my father doubled over laughing to hear she had been busted.

Despite my revelation, she insisted it may have started out like that, but a part of her that may never have another chance to see Italy genuinely wanted to go.

Okay, I could get with that.  No more was said; I simply booked the trip.

 In the end, I have this to say.
I am so, so glad that she came.  We made memories I will always treasure. 
She may not have saved me from being kidnapped or sold into human trafficking, but she certainly kept me from running off into the rain with Mimmo. 

There's something to be said for that, too.
Good looking out, Mom.  I love you.