The Flight I Almost Didn't Board

I had just gotten home from St. Tropez. My suitcase was still on the floor. And I was looking at flights back to Europe. “This is insane,” the voice in my head barked at me.

My brother Justin was DJing at World Pride in Amsterdam. I knew about it for weeks. But I kept going back and forth. Trust me… I tried to figure out any and all ways to stay in Europe, from my previous trip, ship the entire family out for the summer, or adjust the dates. The logistics simply didn’t match up for more reasons I can list here. And the guilt of leaving my kids again (even though it wasn’t my turn) stung hard.

I didn’t book the flight until the night before.

Here’s something I haven’t really talked about. I used to be the person who didn’t show up. I missed my best friend’s kid’s first birthday. I’ve missed weddings. Bachelorette parties. It wasn’t that I didn’t care. I just convinced myself that it wouldn’t matter to the person whether I was there or not. I also travel a ton for work so fitting in other events on top of my calendar felt like too much. So, a lot of the time I wouldn’t take the trip. I would stay home.

I was talking to a friend recently about how the older you get, the more you start to notice who actually shows up. Not who texts you “wish I was there!” Not who likes the photo after. The people who actually get on the plane, show up with the bottle of champagne. You pay attention to the people who are there holding your hand in the hospital, dropping flowers at the porch on Mother’s Day, and flying across the world to be at an event that they know is important to you.

So … I got on the plane.

And before I knew it, I was dancing shoulder to shoulder with a crowd in Amsterdam watching my brother, who has been DJing since we were kids, do his thing at World Pride. This isn’t even his real job. He just loves it. And he has built this whole community of people around him who travel for him, who dance with him, who show up. His tribe showed up for him in Amsterdam and I got to be part of it. To say that I am proud is an understatement.

Somewhere in the middle of the long flights, dragging my suitcase on the cobblestone streets and between the laughs and conversations held, I realized that I wasn’t just there for Justin. I was there for me. For the version of me who spent years saying “no” to things I knew deep down were the more important things. And then wondering why she felt so disconnected from the people she loved most.

I’m done being that person.

The trip was short. The flight was long. My kids were completely fine. And I have a memory now that I almost talked myself out of making. Years from now I will look back and remember Justin and I laughing, dancing and catching each other smile just like we did when we were kids. I certainly won’t remember the guilt, or the back and forth or the moment I almost closed my laptop without booking it.

Oh, and I didn’t mention that I actually flew through Paris so I stayed there for a couple of nights on a little retreat. I didn’t post anything in real time on social media because it was such a quick and spontaneous trip but I have photos and stories to share about that too!

More soon x