It’s amazing how peaceful receiving a text can be.
The Princess left for Europe and Israel yesterday. Five weeks away and to say I’m nervous would be an understatement. I won’t go into my reasons here because a) I don’t want to get political and b) I see no reason to advertise my crazy anymore than necessary. But let’s just say I could use a sedative and my husband could use some sympathy.
While I dealt with the mishegas surrounding the packing list and the weight of the suitcase and the size of the carryon and how she could possibly exist for five weeks with no tank tops (she snuck in two) and only twelve shirts (laundry) and why she shouldn’t pack perfume (solved by the Rabbi—thank you!), my husband dealt with everything electronic.
He handled how she would contact home, knowing full well that I wanted to be able to reach her at all times (even though I won’t actually do it) and what device would work where and how. He determined the best way to avoid $2000 data charges (seriously) and how to contact the grandparents.
And I woke up today to three texts from her. Normal texts. Texts she’d send me from home. They told me nothing of her plans for the day or how her flight was or anything that I wanted to know. But that’s okay. I don’t really expect to hear about that. I want her to be too busy having fun to do more than text me an “I’m alive” text every day (and hopefully one that isn’t preprogrammed into her phone).
When she gets home, she’s going to spend all of her time filling me in on everything she did. From previous experience, I’m going to be sick of listening to the stories because they’re going to go on so long. But I’m going to be thrilled she had such a good and meaningful time.
And in the meantime, the “I’m alive” texts are going to be awesome.