*This is an excerpt from my memoir One Third Crazy.
I’m on a plane leaving Las Vegas, praying for my life. Flying, though I love reaching my destination, is not my favorite hobby. The captain has already warned us while safely on the tarmac that this is going to be a bumpy ride and to hold tight as we try to ascend past the roller-coaster he’s about to take us on.
I’m sitting here, of my own free will. No one has strapped my wrists to the arm rest, the cabin door is still open, escape is possible. I ponder for a second making a run for it, then weigh the consequences of this cowardly potential move. If I deplane I can’t see my babies. I have promised them mama’s coming home tonight, I’ve been gone all week. I close my eyes, picture them dog-piling me on the living room floor when they get home this evening. They are the only reason I remain seated. I can’t wait to see them! It’s been toooooooo long! Every fiber of my being misses them and is exhausted from this trip. I must get home. NOW.