flying with the end in mind

There was a time in my life when I really looked forward to flying on an airplane.  The snacks, the window seat, the books that I could read, the magazines I could flip through, the naps, the excitement of seeing somewhere new...

Then September 11 happened.  Security check felt like we were waiting in line to enter a prison camp, we had to pay more for less, and we couldn't even carry in a bottle of water anymore.

Then kids happened.  Strollers, taking a sleeping baby out of the stroller to go through security, figuring out how to get the car seat/luggage/kid from point A to point B, getting all nervous that my kids are bugging all the other passengers, being worried I will forget one of the 382 items that it takes to raise a baby these days, kids asking, "are we going to have to run again?" because their parents are inevitably and annoyingly late every single time they fly, running out of entertainment for the kids, running out of threats so the kids will listen, being amazed at how a kid can stay awake the entire red eye flight only to pass out 15 minutes before we land, having to decide if it feels worse to be hungry or to feel disgusting after eating all the stuff in the $15 box of processed snacks, kids crying, kids throwing up, me wanting to cry, me wanting to throw up, and on and on and on...

We deal with it.  Sometimes we enjoy it.  Sometimes husband and I look at each other and one of us mouths, "Some body shoot me now."  Sometimes I swear that I will never ever ever never fly again.  But just like childbirth, I kind of forget the misery and I do it all over again.  

And maybe it's because we are met with sweet welcomes and lots of family time.

Or maybe it's because I think it is worth flying over the ocean to have one of my mom's home cooked meals.

My mom's korokke and gyoza are my two all time favorite comfort foods.  The korokke was waiting for us as soon as we landed.  And here is a little random culture lesson... I grew up with Japanese parents in America.  The two cultures express love in very different ways.  This meal, my friends, is worth a bajillion verbal "I love you"s.  

 Even when I think I am doing it just like my mom, my cooking is never as good.  But most of the time, I don't even think that I am doing it just like my mom :).  I am too impatient and I don't have the skills or the artistic touch.  After being away for awhile, I also appreciate how much vegetables she uses.  One meal almost always has at least 5-6 different vegetables in it.  All tasty, all beautiful.  

Okay, okay, and it's not all about the food.  It's about the shopping, too.  Just kidding, we made a ton of great memories, most of them with family.

We fly because we know (or at least hope) the destination is worth it.

So, here's to remembering summer.  One of the fastest summers of my life...