Thursday, November 24, 2005

Leaving

It’s a scorching hot Saturday. The car park is busy. Cars arrive empty and leave laden with hardware supplies - the stuff dreams are made of.

The nice lady at the auto club told me “Someone will be there to help you in 5 to 30 minutes.” 30 minutes would be good because I have some thinking to do.

Did I lock my keys in the boot accidentally purposefully – subconsciously? You see, tonight I fly off to see my brother and his wife - and I’m tense.

In the shade of a building, by a pile of wheelbarrows, I stand, I wait and I think.

I think about packing and about airports. I think about cleaning and washing and how many pairs of socks will it take?

A yellow car pulls into the car park but it’s not the auto club. It is a station wagon though. Very handy for moving stuff.

All my socks. Maybe not the thick ones.

A young couple walk out of the store carrying a huge pile of plastic containers. They're about to get themselves really organised.

Michael, my brother, is making a trial run to Dubai airport, so he can be sure of the route when he comes to pick me up. I’m touched at the effort he is going to. He always was a planner, Michael.

The smell of cooked onions wafts past me. The sausage sizzle is in full swing. A robust chap passes me carrying a belt-sander and a hotdog. He looks pretty chuffed.

Michael’s emails have been fairly laid back but I can tell he already has a busy schedule for us. As I think about his enthusiasm I feel a little bit ashamed. I’ve been so wrapped up in my travel anxiety that I’ve hardly thought about seeing my brother and having a good time with him.

The Auto Club Guy pulls in and I lean through the passenger window of his car “G’day. Yeah - the Falcon over there by the Cruiser.” And as ACG works to free my keys I realise that sometimes, despite our best efforts at sabotage, things work out okay.
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