I need a vacation.
No really. I need a vacation.
I had a doctor’s appointment this morning at the Air Fore Base (apparently the Army medical center doesn’t see anyone over the age of 18 anymore. Gee. Thanks.) , and I had to navigate around the city for the first without the help of my husband. He’s a natural born navigator. Hence the (former) pilot part. Me? Not so much. It’s not that I get lost a lot; I’m just really paranoid about getting lost. So much so, that I was gripping the wheel the entire thirty minute drive through San Antonio, counting exits like my the future of my soul depended on it.
And by the way, people will tell you that everything in San Antonio is only fifteen minutes from you. It’s not. And I hope I never find myself saying this. Because everyone says it.
I digress. So, I’m literally a mile from the Base and I pull out my wallet to get my ID card. Now, you can’t do anything on post without your ID. It’s basically your lifeline. Buy groceries? Nope. Purchase clothes? Negative. Receive medical care? Forget it. I reach into my wallet to my ID card slot…and felt the emptiness. I rustled around inside my purse. Nothing. I started to panic. Pockets on my purse? Not there. By this time I had pulled inside a hotel parking lot and could see the gate from where I was parked. I tried to think back when I had last had it. The zoo! I had put it back in my wallet; I had made it a point because of my doctor’s appointment. I jumped out of the car, looked in the stroller. By this time, I was frantic.
And so I called her. The woman who has walked this path before me. Who knows it. And understands it. And has another appreciative aspect–my mother. “They won’t see me if I don’t have it!” I cried to her. “Nope, they won’t. Did you check your purse?” She went with me through the whole van, stroller and purse. “What about any random pockets on your wallet?” My mind stopped. Yes. I reached into my coin pocket and felt the plastic lamination in my finger tips.
“Mom! Thank you!” Seriously, if she hadn’t said that, I would have turned around and driven home. But, she saved me. Again. When I handed my ID card over to the young Soldier at the desk, I was still shaking.
That’s the first time since having an ID card at ten years old, that I have lost it. And that wasn’t even that major of a loss. That little piece of paper and plastic connects to my healthcare, my sustenance, my life.
After all of that, and then navigating around this huge city, I am going to reward myself. With a giant hunk of dark chocolate brownie.