Taking Flight

Sezane sweater
Realisation Par skirt
Zara sandals (similar)
Mango handbag
Zara sunglasses
Celine necklace 
Linjer rings (c/o)
Location: The Ambassador Apartments – Winnipeg, Manitoba

It feels absolutely surreal to think this, never mind to say it – but yesterday, I booked a flight to Paris.

The idea of taking flight after almost two full years on the ground… after almost two full years of avoiding leaving our apartment as much as possible… seems almost unthinkable. While I always knew that someday we’d travel again, I didn’t imagine it like this. In the early days, I thought public health measures could quickly and effectively bring the pandemic under control. My belief in the ability of the global community to come together to fight this threat was strong. I was quickly proven wrong. But in spite of all of the evidence to the contrary, I’ve remained optimistic that we will someday get back to normal every step of the way.

Maybe I’ll be right, in the end. But the path out of this global health crisis seems less clearly marked to me now than ever before. Every time I do something new, I question if it’s too soon. I ask myself if I might be taking an unnecessary risk. And knowing myself, I know that the longer I go on like this, hesitating in the name of safety, the less likely I will be able to return to my normal, pre-pandemic self in the future. The habits and reflexes will be too hard for me, who thrives on routine, to break.

So, perhaps emboldened by having taken my first trip since February 2020, to a cabin with my parents, my brother and his girlfriend, I booked a flight. I booked it even though it feels too soon. And like a risk. And I know that in the seven weeks before we depart, everything could change… and then change again. I booked it because the longer I stay in one place, the less safe leaving will feel for me, even if the level of actual risk decreases. So I bought a ticket because I need to face the risk, before my anxiety cripples me completely. Before my nightmares about crowded airports full of unmasked travelers, which have recurred with increasing frequency this year, develop into a full blown phobia that keeps me on the ground for good.

Everyone is different. When it feels right to resume different activities will be different for everyone. For me, it’s never going to truly feel right – so I just have to take the leap to prove to myself that I’ll survive it. I leap before I look… and that’s almost always because I’m covering my eyes, hoping I’m not at the edge of a cliff.

A flight to Paris… it’s a nervewracking prospect. But also a beautiful one.

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