Tomorrow I leave to visit my parents: my first time away from either of my children overnight. I'll be gone for five days. My brain is like a skittish horse, shying away from what I think about the impending trip. It's easier to deal with pragmatic (symbolic?) details.
In my luggage will be:
a manual breast pump (because I can't decide if I want Winton to be weaned by the time I get back or not and am deluding myself that I have some choice in the matter).
Ishmael Beah's book about being a child soldier (because I am teaching a course on child soldiers in the fall--ha! "in the fall" sounds so far away)
A bathing suit (still the shapeless shorts/ sports top ensemble I wore when pregnant as I can't seem to justify the expense of buying a new suit) in case my 78 year old father really does want to swim in the frigid waters of English Bay one afternoon.
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