bandages
Drew and Kaleigh were finally going on vacation. They hadn’t gone in years, at least since their youngest was born. Now their two children, ages six and eight, were decently old enough to tolerate wearing their own tiny backpacks, and Kaleigh no longer had to wrestle the double stroller around. They were going to Edinburgh, the city of winding cobblestones and hills, narrow, ancient hallways of narrow, ancient homes.
She heard screams, footsteps rushing toward her, a great flurry of movement of fellow tourists rushing to her aid, leaving their families frozen, gawping in horror.
Drew found Kaleigh with her eyes open, though glazed. His feet were killing him, his eyes burning, face puffed from seasonal allergies. Archer had kept him running and now Holden was screaming his head off at the top of the stairs. He noticed the gush of blood from Kaleigh's forehead, the unnatural angles of her elbows and knees. Blood stained her white Lululemon matching set. But he didn’t see her purple backpack anywhere, where he knew must be a first aid kit.
Kaleigh felt hazy, as though in a dream, sounds muffled. She knew the uneven stones must be digging into her back, but she couldn't feel them, she didn't mind at all. She felt herself drifting away, relieved by this moment of rest.
As she drifted out of consciousness, she heard, “Kaleigh, where are the bandaids?”
Kaleigh had painstakingly sifted through Airbnb to find a garden or ground-level flat in case her youngest, Holden, had one of his screaming, kicking, meltdowns. The mere thought of a polite knock on the door from a neighbor disturbed by Holden’s gremlin shrieks was enough for her to slightly stretch their budget for the ideal spot.
But here she was at Target, a mere twelve hours before the flight, collecting the odds and ends of all she had missed on the to-do list that seemed to grow rather than shrink.
The laundry had been started a week ago, an ongoing project that stretched throughout the week. But then laundry means folding and folding means putting away. And if she’s folding and putting away, the children are off somewhere in the house dumping toy bins, jumping from too high of places, antagonizing each other.
Next was the great search for suitcases. Kaleigh had lugged them down from the attic and began filling them as strategically as possible. Outfits for Drew and the kids, their thick boot socks rolled neatly in the zipper pocket. They all needed raincoats, sturdy waterproof shoes, plenty of underwear, in easily accessible places. They had the tendency to forget things existed if not immediately visible, tucked away somewhere.
Kaleigh had somehow forgotten that going to Edinburgh meant flying to Edinburgh, trapped in the plane, in tiny narrow seats, for over ten hours. They would need entertainment, snacks, emergency outfits, toothbrushes, travel-sized toothpaste so they wouldn’t start off their trip with acrid morning breath. So she put the kids to bed, pulled on her boots, and headed to Target.
Here she stood in the dollar section at the front of the store, contemplating the merits of a mini pack of play-doh, then imagined it smeared into the finely woven carpet of the plane, the flight attendants scrubbing away at the mess long after they deplaned. She put it back and resigned herself to being an iPad mom, at least for the twelve-hour-and-thirty-four minutes of the flight.
She pointed her key fob in the dark—with all the grocery and clothes and school supply shopping she did on the regular, how could she continue to lose her car in the parking lot?? As she fumbled her way through the dark, listening for the faint beeps of her Toyota Highlander, at least she could consider her own packing, her own collection of outfits and the ideal number of underwear for their 5-day trip.
Once she arrived home, she made a quiet beeline to the gaping suitcases and backpacks. She finished packing their checked bags, pulling out what they might need for the airplane as she went. Then she sat, considering, what they all might tolerate carrying as they explored the historic city. She decided that she better put most things in her trusty purple backpack: collapsible water bottles, children’s Tylenol, allergy meds, plain and Lightning McQueen bandaids, trail mix, emergency pocket games for when her children inevitably hit their cooperation limit out in public. All of their passports, their boarding passes, printed walking directions from the airport to their Airbnb in case they couldn’t get a cab, in case their international cell service (that she had spent hours on the phone with their cell service agent arranging and was only halfway confident would work) crapped out. Or their phones died. Oh, geez. She almost forgot the travel batteries for hers and Drew’s phones.
She had secured the days off work by the skin of her teeth, and pushed the thoughts of the mountain of projects she would return to, at work and home, to the back of her mind. This would be a once-in-a-lifetime adventure, just Kaleigh and her guys.
Finally satisfied that she had thought of all that they needed, and made a plan for any semi-likely scenario that might present itself (one of the boys gets a fever? A splinter? Drew forgets his wallet?), she plodded into the bathroom to brush her teeth and complete two steps of her six-step skincare routine. By the time she made it to bed beside her snoring husband, she realized that she’d be lucky for five hours of sleep. She stared at the clock, counting:
If I fall asleep now, that’s five hours.
If I fall asleep now, that’s four hours and thirty-seven minutes. Not bad.
Now, only three hours. Fall asleep, Kaleigh.
Once she hit only two hours of potential sleep, she realized she might as well roll out of bed and start the coffeepot, the boys’ breakfasts.
They somehow made it to the airport without much of a hitch, only Drew’s annoyance at Kaleigh for drinking most of the pot of coffee.
She kissed his cheek. “Sorry, honey. I’ll stop at Starbucks as soon as we get through security.”
They made it through security, secured their second round of coffees, and then it was time to board the plane.
Kaleigh spent the flight juggling iPads, the boys’ special airplane snacks and was grateful when they all finally passed out. She realized she must have passed out too when she was awakened by the thwack of one child hitting the other.
“THA’S MY LIGHTNING MCQUEEN!!”
She rummaged through her trusty purple backpack for their backup toy car and realized she didn’t get to use her travel toothbrush and toothpaste. She popped a piece of gum into her mouth and vowed to brush her teeth twice at the Airbnb. The plane was descending, and she needed to get their backpacks packed up.
The family deplaned and stepped into their adventure: thankfully the cabbie system worked out, their Airbnb had sufficient space, and they were able to get started on their itineraries to explore Edinburgh.
They gorged themselves on sausage rolls, Irn Bru, fish and chips, and haggis nachos (that Kaleigh pointedly called hamburger meat) throughout the city. Kaleigh relished not having to cook, even as the grease soured her stomach. They walked through the Greyfriars Kirkyard, admired Greyfriars Bobby, and purchased a tiny stuffed Bobby for each child. They walked the Royal Mile and had ice creams in the Meadows, resting on Kaleigh’s trusty purple backpack, large enough to provide a bit of cushion as they sat on the ground.
They were making it through the vacation, and Kaleigh even captured some decent pictures to post on Instagram.
The next day was for the castle—she had packed tightly rolled up knight and dragon costumes for the boys to zoom their way through it. As Drew and her oldest son, Archer, raced up the hill toward the castle, Kaleigh struggled her way up behind them, enticing her youngest to keep moving. Finally, she picked him up, the weight of his tiny body balancing out the weight of her backpack. She pressed on, pushing the discomfort out of mind, but by the time they got up to the top of the hill with the castle, she found herself daydreaming about that damned double stroller.
At the castle, she and Drew trailed behind Holden and Archer, phones fixed in hand, ready to capture each picture-worthy moment. Kaleigh had splurged on cold bottles of water but her muscles continued to twitch from the trek up. The castle had even more steps to climb, and she had three boys to chase after. Then Holden refused to walk. Too exhausted to figure out how to convince him, she hitched him on her hip and kept climbing the uneven steps.
At the top, she spotted a grassy clearing on the other side that was calling her name. Only one more set of stairs—at least it was downhill. Perhaps she and Holden could rest there in the grass for a few minutes. Eyes fixed ahead, imagining her trusty purple backpack as a pillow, perhaps a moment of shuteye, she realized her foot caught nothing but air.
It was one of those moments she had experienced only once before, back when she was eight and had broken her femur when she bounced off a trampoline. A disaster was in progress, tumbling forward, and she had no power to change its course. At least for herself. After miraculously dropping Holden where she stood at the top of the steps, before her feet crumpled entirely beneath her, she stumbled down the rest of the steps until she landed at the bottom.
But here she was at Target, a mere twelve hours before the flight, collecting the odds and ends of all she had missed on the to-do list that seemed to grow rather than shrink.
The laundry had been started a week ago, an ongoing project that stretched throughout the week. But then laundry means folding and folding means putting away. And if she’s folding and putting away, the children are off somewhere in the house dumping toy bins, jumping from too high of places, antagonizing each other.
Next was the great search for suitcases. Kaleigh had lugged them down from the attic and began filling them as strategically as possible. Outfits for Drew and the kids, their thick boot socks rolled neatly in the zipper pocket. They all needed raincoats, sturdy waterproof shoes, plenty of underwear, in easily accessible places. They had the tendency to forget things existed if not immediately visible, tucked away somewhere.
Kaleigh had somehow forgotten that going to Edinburgh meant flying to Edinburgh, trapped in the plane, in tiny narrow seats, for over ten hours. They would need entertainment, snacks, emergency outfits, toothbrushes, travel-sized toothpaste so they wouldn’t start off their trip with acrid morning breath. So she put the kids to bed, pulled on her boots, and headed to Target.
Here she stood in the dollar section at the front of the store, contemplating the merits of a mini pack of play-doh, then imagined it smeared into the finely woven carpet of the plane, the flight attendants scrubbing away at the mess long after they deplaned. She put it back and resigned herself to being an iPad mom, at least for the twelve-hour-and-thirty-four minutes of the flight.
She pointed her key fob in the dark—with all the grocery and clothes and school supply shopping she did on the regular, how could she continue to lose her car in the parking lot?? As she fumbled her way through the dark, listening for the faint beeps of her Toyota Highlander, at least she could consider her own packing, her own collection of outfits and the ideal number of underwear for their 5-day trip.
Once she arrived home, she made a quiet beeline to the gaping suitcases and backpacks. She finished packing their checked bags, pulling out what they might need for the airplane as she went. Then she sat, considering, what they all might tolerate carrying as they explored the historic city. She decided that she better put most things in her trusty purple backpack: collapsible water bottles, children’s Tylenol, allergy meds, plain and Lightning McQueen bandaids, trail mix, emergency pocket games for when her children inevitably hit their cooperation limit out in public. All of their passports, their boarding passes, printed walking directions from the airport to their Airbnb in case they couldn’t get a cab, in case their international cell service (that she had spent hours on the phone with their cell service agent arranging and was only halfway confident would work) crapped out. Or their phones died. Oh, geez. She almost forgot the travel batteries for hers and Drew’s phones.
She had secured the days off work by the skin of her teeth, and pushed the thoughts of the mountain of projects she would return to, at work and home, to the back of her mind. This would be a once-in-a-lifetime adventure, just Kaleigh and her guys.
Finally satisfied that she had thought of all that they needed, and made a plan for any semi-likely scenario that might present itself (one of the boys gets a fever? A splinter? Drew forgets his wallet?), she plodded into the bathroom to brush her teeth and complete two steps of her six-step skincare routine. By the time she made it to bed beside her snoring husband, she realized that she’d be lucky for five hours of sleep. She stared at the clock, counting:
If I fall asleep now, that’s five hours.
If I fall asleep now, that’s four hours and thirty-seven minutes. Not bad.
Now, only three hours. Fall asleep, Kaleigh.
Once she hit only two hours of potential sleep, she realized she might as well roll out of bed and start the coffeepot, the boys’ breakfasts.
They somehow made it to the airport without much of a hitch, only Drew’s annoyance at Kaleigh for drinking most of the pot of coffee.
She kissed his cheek. “Sorry, honey. I’ll stop at Starbucks as soon as we get through security.”
They made it through security, secured their second round of coffees, and then it was time to board the plane.
Kaleigh spent the flight juggling iPads, the boys’ special airplane snacks and was grateful when they all finally passed out. She realized she must have passed out too when she was awakened by the thwack of one child hitting the other.
“THA’S MY LIGHTNING MCQUEEN!!”
She rummaged through her trusty purple backpack for their backup toy car and realized she didn’t get to use her travel toothbrush and toothpaste. She popped a piece of gum into her mouth and vowed to brush her teeth twice at the Airbnb. The plane was descending, and she needed to get their backpacks packed up.
The family deplaned and stepped into their adventure: thankfully the cabbie system worked out, their Airbnb had sufficient space, and they were able to get started on their itineraries to explore Edinburgh.
They gorged themselves on sausage rolls, Irn Bru, fish and chips, and haggis nachos (that Kaleigh pointedly called hamburger meat) throughout the city. Kaleigh relished not having to cook, even as the grease soured her stomach. They walked through the Greyfriars Kirkyard, admired Greyfriars Bobby, and purchased a tiny stuffed Bobby for each child. They walked the Royal Mile and had ice creams in the Meadows, resting on Kaleigh’s trusty purple backpack, large enough to provide a bit of cushion as they sat on the ground.
They were making it through the vacation, and Kaleigh even captured some decent pictures to post on Instagram.
The next day was for the castle—she had packed tightly rolled up knight and dragon costumes for the boys to zoom their way through it. As Drew and her oldest son, Archer, raced up the hill toward the castle, Kaleigh struggled her way up behind them, enticing her youngest to keep moving. Finally, she picked him up, the weight of his tiny body balancing out the weight of her backpack. She pressed on, pushing the discomfort out of mind, but by the time they got up to the top of the hill with the castle, she found herself daydreaming about that damned double stroller.
At the castle, she and Drew trailed behind Holden and Archer, phones fixed in hand, ready to capture each picture-worthy moment. Kaleigh had splurged on cold bottles of water but her muscles continued to twitch from the trek up. The castle had even more steps to climb, and she had three boys to chase after. Then Holden refused to walk. Too exhausted to figure out how to convince him, she hitched him on her hip and kept climbing the uneven steps.
At the top, she spotted a grassy clearing on the other side that was calling her name. Only one more set of stairs—at least it was downhill. Perhaps she and Holden could rest there in the grass for a few minutes. Eyes fixed ahead, imagining her trusty purple backpack as a pillow, perhaps a moment of shuteye, she realized her foot caught nothing but air.
It was one of those moments she had experienced only once before, back when she was eight and had broken her femur when she bounced off a trampoline. A disaster was in progress, tumbling forward, and she had no power to change its course. At least for herself. After miraculously dropping Holden where she stood at the top of the steps, before her feet crumpled entirely beneath her, she stumbled down the rest of the steps until she landed at the bottom.
Her vision was narrowing. She noticed, almost bemused, that she hadn’t quite made it to the grass. Curiously, it didn’t feel so bad on the stones.
She heard screams, footsteps rushing toward her, a great flurry of movement of fellow tourists rushing to her aid, leaving their families frozen, gawping in horror.
Drew found Kaleigh with her eyes open, though glazed. His feet were killing him, his eyes burning, face puffed from seasonal allergies. Archer had kept him running and now Holden was screaming his head off at the top of the stairs. He noticed the gush of blood from Kaleigh's forehead, the unnatural angles of her elbows and knees. Blood stained her white Lululemon matching set. But he didn’t see her purple backpack anywhere, where he knew must be a first aid kit.
Kaleigh felt hazy, as though in a dream, sounds muffled. She knew the uneven stones must be digging into her back, but she couldn't feel them, she didn't mind at all. She felt herself drifting away, relieved by this moment of rest.
As she drifted out of consciousness, she heard, “Kaleigh, where are the bandaids?”
(For the record, Drew is not Greg)
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