By Pauline Hanley
Transcript
It’s 3.30am and the alarm has gone off. The suitcase is packed – just to add the toothbrush. I get up and tiptoe to the light switch, guided only by the street light that peeps through a crack in the shutters. The house is still. Concerned about leaving, I sneak in for the kiss goodbye.
Making my way down the stairs, every creak seems louder now. I hear the soft rhythm of the gentle snore coming from my Mam and Dad’s room. They will stay here while I travel. Getting to the kitchen I check to see that everything is in order: phone number of the office and hotel, name of the hotel, phone number of the doctor and a neighbour in case there is an emergency. I check the curtain to see if the car has arrived – no sign yet. The sleepy-eyed dog looks up, still in her bed. She is ushered outside (if not there could be an added surprise for the sleepers when they awake). Check the window again – still no sign of the driver – a little wave of annoyance creeps in. The flight is at 7.15, I need to be on the road soon.
The final check for the passport and bank card. Then, like a dart from nowhere, the tears erupt. It’s hard to leave the little sleeping girl behind, all the “what ifs” running through my mind. What if I don’t come home? Or what if something happens while I am away…? The panic is overtaken again by the scratching at the door. I let the little damp dog in and she throws a dirty “white of the eye”, distasteful glance as she returns to her bed.
The car is outside now. I run up the stairs for one last hug and kiss – she barely moves. Downstairs again, I gather my belongings and get into the car to start the long drive to the airport. Suddenly, I am tired – the driver is chatty. I want to scream, “please, I want to sleep” but I respond politely. As we go around the “new” roundabout at the Esso station on the way out of Cashel, the wrong way, I realise the driver is chatty, perhaps, because he is not yet fully awake. Oh, oh, oh I can’t sleep now. I will have to talk to make sure he stays awake. I want to shout “take me home I’ll drive myself”, but it is company policy that I can’t drive after the long flight home – if I drive, how will I get my car home?
So I start to talk about hurling – my passion. It is quickly obvious that no one in Tipperary wants to talk about Limerick hurling – so the conversation changes to families. I can’t talk about my beautiful sleeping daughter so I ask him about his family – and that takes us all the way to the M50 junction.
I can’t keep awake any longer and so I doze off to sleep. As I get out at the airport much to my frustration the driver says, “you had a great sleep!” Again, there is the urge to scream – and again I hold it in, politely bid my goodbye and thanks and head into the terminal.
It’s brighter now – not quiet daylight but not dark. The airport is busy with people all going on their journeys to God knows where. I check the time. It’s 5.15am and I need to move. Queue one is for check in – followed by queue two for security, then queue three for US security, queue four for US Immigration. I am finally through and heading to the plane.