Vacation Drama

I scour news sites, airline sites, airport sites for a definitive answer. Will my flight to Paris go or won't it?
When I see that the flight for Sunday night hasn't been cancelled, and today is Sunday, I despair of learning ahead of time. The people who are scheduled to fly to Paris tonight are still scheduled. Imagine how panicked they must be. Packing, kissing kids goodbye, arranging sitters, changing dollars to Euros. Then they may arrive at the airport and be turned around.

That might be me too.
I look at my list of things to do before we leave and realize I must complete them all, just in case.

I hope and I despair at the same time. I long to go; I have my fears about leaving the kids for a week. Maybe it's worse now that they're older rather than younger.
I'm asking them to make sacrifices. They don't want to stay at their Aunt's house.
"That's like 10 minutes extra every morning on the way to school," Grace complains.
"Okay, 10 minutes a day to school for six days. That equals an hour. I'm asking you to sacrifice an hour for me and Dad."
Huff.
My stomach feels extra jittery as I sit through basketball games and measure the shot put at a track meet. .
Oh, to be in Paris, settled into a seat at a cafe, watching the people hurry past while I sip a teeny, tiny espresso. I drop the sugar cube in and stir it with the little spoon until it dissolves, half sugar/half espresso. Aaaah. The stress of life pools in a puddle at my feet and trickles down the sidewalk. I have left it behind.
I hold hands with my husband and walk along the Seine. We stop to admire artists at work and listen to his spattering of English as he tries to convince us to buy his art.
We linger at dinner, ordering things we aren't sure of then feeling our taste buds come alive again at the touch of the food on our tongues.
In the back of my mind though, that fear that if I do make it to France, I'll be worrying the whole time that I may not make it back. What if the volcano kicks up again and I am stranded in France? Oh, I know there are worse things in life, but the everyday banality of kids and work wait like a ticking clock.

Reading the Signs

Suppose you planned a dream vacation. Suppose you told all your friends about it and talked about it for months.
Then suppose you started having second thoughts. Maybe you shouldn't go. It was going to be expensive and you do have a child going off to college this year. Maybe it would be better to put off this vacation.
You looked for signs, other than the dollar signs.
Was it a sign when the airline said you couldn't get a refund? That meant you had to go.
Was it a sign when the hotel had a room available? Everything was falling into place.
Was it a sign when your friends planned to be in town that same weekend so you could see them?
All the signs seemed to be pointing to yes. Yes! This is the right vacation for you.
Perhaps, you were missing the smaller signs. Maybe even some medium-sized signs, because all of a sudden a large sign has shot from a glacier.
A volcano erupts in Iceland, stopping all overseas travel.
Now that's what I call a sign. A sign that no one could miss.
Don't worry, we have a backup plan.