Papaya milk therapy
We're at 7 Eleven. I'm holding a banana, some papaya milk, taking our time at the store. Waiting for our ride, we snagged some snacks while our train tickets printed behind the counter.
It's a nice slow morning, just the way I like it. We get in the car, a short ride to the Tainan train station. Easy peezy. And then I realize we're headed to the wrong one. The high-speed rail lines are at a different station, a 30 minute drive instead of 5.
Looking at my ticket, my watch, back to my ticket. We're gonna miss our train, no doubt about it, I think. I'm mad at myself, trying to keep it cool but I can feel the heat rising.
You hold my hand, ask me to not get upset. I tell you I'm allowed to be upset, and I need a minute to cool off. We're experienced travelers, things like this happen. But what digs at me in that moment is how easily preventable this was, if only I'd just checked the departure station.
It's in moments like these that make me so grateful for your calm composure. You always seem to have the right attitude, no matter the situation. Have our roles reversed, and I've been that calming presence? Yes, a time or two. But you're better than me in moments like these.
You have a gift, and maybe you don't realize it. To take a deep breath, say a prayer, hold my hand. To worry is to waste.
We can get through anything together, like a mad dash to the wrong train platform, and then an even madder dash to the right one, sliding onto the train car just as the doors close. A big hug and a holler, sweaty and laughing, catching our breath, backpacks feeling light as a feather with that boost of adrenaline.
Relief, we made it. Taipei, here we come, right on time. No cussing, no fights, no tears. I eat my snacks to calm myself, and you laugh at me. Papaya milk therapy with my girl as a witness. I love you.