O
ur youngest was about to take off for a month of trotting the globe.
He was fine. I was a mess.
“Mom, promise me you won’t just sit by the phone waiting for me to call.”
“You know I can’t promise that. You will call us, won’t you?”
“I’ll be having so much fun,” he replied, “I might forget to call. What you need is a project.”
My eye fell on a bookstand, with the book “Year of Yes,” by Shonda Rhimes. “I know! I’ll be like Shonda Rhimes for a month.”
“Who’s that?”
“She’s the creative person behind the TV shows ‘Grey’s Anatomy,’ and ‘Scandal.’
She just wrote a book about saying “Yes” to things for a year, and how it changed her life. I could try that, for a month.”
“And it’ll keep you from worrying?”
“Of course not. But it might distract me. And who knows? Maybe I’ll learn something.”
It was the first time I’d ever needed Valium just to drop someone else off at the airport.
But we soon got an email that he’d arrived safely at his first destination, and it was time for me to pack… for my first “Yes”: attending my 40th College Reunion.
“I’m so exhausted,” I moaned when I called my husband that evening. My life’s partner had opted to stay home with the TV remote.
“What’s that?” he said. “I can’t hear you over this episode of ‘America’s Funniest Home Videos.’”
“I must have walked 10 miles today, all over campus. I’m so tired! People from the 50th reunion class kept passing me like I was standing still.”
Actually, I had been standing still — leaning against doorways to catch my breath.
“So what’s their secret?”
“I wish I knew. One woman told me how she’d had to lose 100 pounds, or else her surgeon was going to staple her stomach shut — so she got out and walked every morning, and lost all the weight. And she’s 10 years older than me!”
“So have you learned anything?”
“I learned I should have said ‘Yes’ to this trip a lot sooner.”
“Why?”
“Because if you don’t book a hotel the first chance you get, you have to settle for a dorm room. It’s gorgeous, but the mattress is thinner than a yoga mat.”
“Judy, you don’t even do yoga; how do you know what the mats are like?”
“I hear things.”
Luckily, I was so exhausted, I slept like a log, every night of that week, before heading home.
I had scarcely unpacked my wheelie-suitcase before another adventure popped up.
“Judy,” said the woman on the phone, “We need someone to go to Washington, D.C. next week, for the League of Women Voters’ national convention.”
“I’ll get back to you,” I said, and hung up. Unfortunately, my husband had overheard.
“Judy, what happened to your Month of ‘Yes’?”
So I went. I learned that the League is composed of some of the smartest, feistiest, and politically savvy women — and men — I’ve ever run across.
They are as fierce about not being partisan as they are about holding politicians to account.
And I learned — yet again — that it’s disastrous to dally over reservations.
This time, I was in a charming hotel, but almost a mile from the convention site.
Cabfare back and forth added up quickly for someone who leaves her credentials in her hotel room; or her credit card; or her phone charger….
I was saved by the woman running the lobby jewelry shop, who let me borrow her charger.
While my phone guzzled electrons, I commented on how strongly she resembled the older relative in a photo on the counter.
“Oh, that’s me, 50 pounds ago. I lost it all just walking around my neighborhood, listening to iTunes.”
“Very interesting,” I told her. “But my phone’s all charged up, thanks, gotta go!”
I returned home, and soon, so did my wandering boy, safe and sound. In fact, we had just returned with him from the airport when my phone rang. It was a friend.
“Judy,” she said. “You’ve been away forever, it seems. I’ve got so much to tell you!”
“Why don’t you come over?” I said. “Should I start some coffee, or tea?”
“Neither one,” she replied. “How about we go walking instead? I started daily walks, a while back, and I feel so much healthier!”
“Let me check something first,” I said. I looked at my watch, then the calendar.
“I’m so sorry,” I said, “but my month of saying “Yes” has just run out!”
There’s a limit to everything.
