Pack Animal

I arrived in San Francisco today from Seattle. I've left my husband and two children behind to join friends for some female bonding time before an event at Stanford University. In 2006 my husband, older daughter and I were here for a Knight Fellowship he received, and this year the fellowship is holding a reunion for former fellows. We are happy to see our classmates again and connect with other fellows. And since I was pregnant when we left Palo Alto, it will be a chance to introduce old friends to the newest member of our family. I feel so fortunate to have a couple of days to spend with two Fellow friends, Justine and Patricia, before my husband arrives with our two girls.

Deciding to come early was a bit of a dilemma for me. I am the primary caregiver to our young children, so arranging childcare would be a logistical dilemma. Plus, other than a funeral in which I was out of town for 48 hours, I haven't traveled alone since before the the birth of my oldest daughter: nine years.

I consider myself a pack animal. I'm still close to my birth pack (my mother, three brothers). I feel more at ease when my own pack (husband, two kids) is together. I might complain about how little space there is, how everyone wants or needs my attention, or how much of my energy is needed to keep the pack together, but without them, I feel aimless. So the idea of traveling solo, however many times I've gotten fed up enough to fantasize about it, hardly becomes realized.

But with the encouragement of my husband and the graciousness of my friend Justine, who is putting me up for these two nights, I'm enabled to stretch out on my own.