Monday. 14 November.

Once upon a time, I traveled frequently. I tried to be on a flight once every couple of months, almost always to visit family and friends. For a stretch of time, I also went to Paris once a year; it was a commitment I’d made to myself for joy. 

I write these things now, and I know I understood at the time how lucky I was. I see the words on this page and think – so few people ever get to do that. I think about all that travel and I’m filled with awe and gratitude but also some guilt at the environmental cost. 

Perhaps the last few years have balanced it out a bit. 

I haven’t been on a flight since before the pandemic, since before my baby arrived, since – before. But I’ve got one scheduled this week. I’m headed east with my child and my partner for Thanksgiving. My son will meet family he doesn’t know he has; I will meet a nephew who I have yet to hold. It’s hard to believe it’s happening – and with an apparent Covid surge in my area right now, it’s hard to believe it will happen – but I catch myself in these moments of wild joy, thinking about all the people I get to see.

First, though, there is the travel. In the before times, I loved to fly. I knew how to do it all, and it came easily: parking, TSA, luggage. I had my favorite things to eat and drink, both before takeoff and once in the air, and I knew what to carry in my shoulder bag and how to efficiently pack my carry-on. I rarely checked luggage; even for a monthlong stay in Paris once, I was able to fit it all in a bag that fit in an overhead compartment. 

Oh, how far away that feels now. How innocent. 

I am astounded at the number of things I need to consider when thinking through how to fly with a toddler. What to bring; how to transport the car seat; the stuff for the airport hotel the night before, which we’ll drive to when he’s hopefully asleep after bathtime because our flight is so early.

I have researched – probably too much – all the things I might bring to make the journey as peaceful as possible: snacks, extra clothes (for everyone, it seems to be), new toys, favorite books, a portable busy board. Noise canceling headphones, which I don’t totally understand. A snuggly blanket, which I do. There’s advice on how to navigate the time change; on how to make it through security quickly; on how to prepare my child for what’s to come so not everything is completely new.

It’s a lot; it’s easy to feel overwhelmed. But then I remember – maybe this will be the start of a lifelong love for my child. I get the chance to show him about one of my favorite things on the planet. I get to introduce him to travel.

Maybe I won’t ever again travel like I once did. But this week, I get to look out the window at the ground below me with my son in my lap. I get to share with him the joy of going somewhere new where people we love are waiting.

And that, my friends, makes my return to the skies truly thrilling.