What a 24 hours! I woke at 3:10 am on D-Day, and was go, go, go for the next 13 hours. I left Scout with Animal Transport in the morning, and had someone been standing near me as I left they would have heard, “I’m not going to cry; I’m not going to cry. Damn, I’m going to cry.” But, the good news was, I still had so much to do that I stopped crying pretty quickly. By the time Sibling 1 and I got to the checkout desk at Pearson six hours later, there was only one last thing to do: say good-bye. Again, without crying. Hmm. Well, whatever. I tried.
Then it seemed like no time and we had landed in Dublin. Then on to Edinburgh, to what turned out to be the easiest customs crossing I’d ever done. I had my vaccination certificate ready, along with my negative COVID test, my passport, you name it. But they just waved me through. Really? Okay. Then on to rent the car, program the GPS (SatNav), and brave the streets of Scotland. I was so wound up, and so anxious; it wasn’t until I’d been driving for 20 minutes before it dawned on me: “You’re here. You’re really here! You started thinking about this in December 2019 and now, 21 months later, you’re here. Take a breath, look around, and appreciate the moment.”
So I did. I was gliding along the motorway on a sunny day, through the beautiful Scottish countryside. It felt wonderful.
