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  • Last summer, I finally got out west to visit my mother. It had been nearly 20 years since I traveled out to Arizona, and my mother was getting on in years, and well, I did have a work-related event to attend in Phoenix (which would help pay for part of the trip). So, I thought, maybe July would be a good time to visit. Yes, I know, July in Arizona. But that's when the event was scheduled. And my brother and his family was planning on being there, too. So, July it was.

    I had some concerns about traveling out there. Her house was a three hour drive from Phoenix, through a desert, and I just fretted for months about making that drive. What if I got stuck? Were there any other towns around there? Would there be any other cars? And what would the traffic be like in Phoenix? What if I had to make a left turn (something I hate to do in traffic - I will make three right turns to avoid making a left.)

    That year I seemed to be fretting about everything. Every time I left my place for more than a couple days, I worried about the pets, the apartment, my car, etc. Even the flight there was fretful. I tried to nap, but was constantly being brought to full attention, with the realization I was on a plane, up in the air. I had this odd sensation that the floor of the plane would drop off and we would be suspended in mid-air. our feet dangling, our shoes and sandals drifting off silently to earth.

    I landed, and, although I felt as if on another planet, I was safe. I spent the evening at an event in the cool of a stadium, sprayed by water mists at the entrance and exit, a warm summer evening, leading into a warmer sunny day, where I drove through the desert, alone, making left turns as necessary, until I made it to my destination.
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