"It's the hardest thing I'll ever have to do..."

For the entire second half of this day, I have been running the chorus of "Hardest Thing" by 98 Degrees in my head. Not because it was on my ipod or anything, but because saying goodbye to my mother today before and at the airport was the hardest thing I've ever had to do.

A little background: My mom and I flew out to Chicago on Thursday night-- Logan was the first airport I cried at when I had to say goodbye to my sister and father. We spent the weekend together getting stuff for my apartment (we only had one mini crying moment in Target when I caught her hiding in an aisle tearing up and saying something about laundry detergent to cover it up), assembling Ikea furniture (I fully understand why the directions require you to have a pencil and a buddy to put their crap together--the pencil to stab your eyes out when the going gets rough) and sightseeing around the city (I got to show her a taste of all the reasons why I love the Windy City). After a few nights in a cozy hotel with a kick ass car (I highly recommend hotwire to anyone looking for good prices on either of these), we spent the first night at my apartment on Sunday. Everything was going well.

Then I woke up this morning, realizing what was to come later in the day and what was really happening. I was going to be left alone. My mom was leaving and I was staying. This wasn't a long weekend trip to Chicago like I was used to, I was not going back to Boston. When my mom caught me mid-breakdown on the couch, she realized there weren't just goodbye tears streaming down my pale cheeks; these were tears of sheer panic. I wanted to go home with her, I didn't believe I could do this anymore, even though it was something I was determined to make happen and that I thought I wanted. Sometimes people think they want something and when they try it out, it just doesn't fit (now I understand why there are so many divorces in this world...). Maybe that's what I was experiencing. My mom comforted me, hugged me and talked to me. I felt awful.. I thought I would be the one comforting her when she was left and now I just made her feel worse, thinking she was not only leaving me in a strange city, but as an absolute mess. She is a strong person and doesn't realize it; by holding back her own tears and putting on a brave face for the both of us, it was the only thing that stopped me from boarding her United flight to Logan.

I held it together for the train ride to the airport, but then we became the hugging, crying couple by the security gates I always felt bad for when I passed them. She assured me I could do this, and that if I couldn't I wouldn't be a considered a failure. Those words coming from her meant so much and were comforting. I wiped my eyes with the paper towel I had taken from the bathroom, in anticipation of this very moment, and then she disappeared around the corner.

I spent the next hour and a half on the El contemplating my strength and courage. Could I do this or was it just too much? I decided I couldn't, and as soon as I burst into my apartment door I just as soon burst into tears. It probably wasn't a good time to start opening my mail that was sitting there for me... I think I discarded some kind of credit card notice in the process. Anyhoo...

During my sobbing fest, I remembered something my mom told me on the very same couch a couple hours earlier: You are never alone. There is always someone around who cares, even if it requires a phone call to prove it. She told me I had to stay connected to my friends and my family back in Massachusetts whenever I felt alone, so I dialed my sister. I told her that she and my mom are my best friends and I couldn't stand being so far from them. I wasn't sure if what I was feeling was nostalgia after a great weekend with mom or if I was really just terribly homesick. I went with nostalgia, seeing I cried when I looked at a banana my mom bought me in a grocery run and the leftover bag of Garrett's popcorn we shared the day before. My sister told me I could do this adventure and feeling homesick was natural and a whole bunch of other stuff that made sense and made me feel a lot better. She is wise and doesn't give herself enough credit for it.

Under my sister's orders, I brushed my hair, got it together and joined my roommates and their friend for a long walk for some dinner and shopping. I still felt sad, but was refreshed and more confident. My window for pity crying was over for the day, and I looked for the positives as I chipped away at the situation on my bed that looked like two U-Haul boxes threw up on it. I cleaned as I watched the Red Sox beat the White Sox on my teeny tiny TV, and all was right in my world for the moment.

Now, as I sit here writing this, I am reliving the moments without near as much panic in my body as I had earlier. Still sad and very homesick, I'm trying to follow the advice of a friend who told me to "toughen up cupcake" and to embrace "you know, I'm every woman and all that crap." He told me he'd keep a spot warm for me in Worcester. But who knows how long it will be until I come back... Friday (the day my mom told me we would figure something out if things really didn't get better), Thanksgiving (when fall quarter ends) or in a year or so when I finish my program. For now, I'm taking it one day at a time. I've decided that life is pretty sweet, even if this caramel macadamia nut popcorn from Garrett's is a little stale...