Posted on: January 9, 2011
It goes without saying that Erika Davis needs a vacation. I decided that I would need one way before this current bought of depression set in. There’s always, whether there is family drama or not, a lull at the end of the Holiday season. Whether you’re a Jew or a Christian the time between November-January can be draining, physically and emotionally. There’s so much family time, money spent, hectic running around, planning etc. between the holidays and New Years that by the time the dust settles you feel spent.
I started browsing cabins in the woods towards the end of December when I spent my first Christmas as a Jew-in-Training in New York City all by my lonesome. I found a really cute place and e-mailed a reservation. I dreamt of spending four blissful days with my lady love in a cabin far removed from schedules, planning, or even access to the phone or internet. I wanted us to reconnect with one another as well as with ourselves. When Mirs got home I told her of the weekend I had planned and watched the excited expression drain from her face as she delivered the news. Her applications for internships were due that Saturday. Must be postmarked that Saturday from NYC no sooner or later than the day we’d be in the woods.
I went back to the drawing board and became content with the idea of escaping by myself to an island. I thought I would find a cheap flight and cheaper hotel deals to Puerto Rico, maybe even get a chance to go back to Costa Rica for four nights. Worse case scenario I could bunker down in some crummy hotel in the Keys. Do you know that a flight from JFK to Key West is at least a grand right now? I had a mini panic attack followed by temper tantrums, followed by sporadic bursting into tears, followed by picked fights, frantic text messages to friends, teary apologies on voice mails until I heard the magical words, “I booked a flight” come out of my mother’s mouth this afternoon while we chatted on the phone on my lunch break. My mom’s coming to town. My best friend who I’ve not got to spend 100% alone time with in four years. In case you forgot, she’s the saint who’s raising my sister’s children. She needs a break and I need my mom. I hope she realizes she’s traded two babies aged 18 mos and 4 for a 31-year-old baby. There’s something, though, about the relationship of a mother and her first born-me!