Shirley
Jean doesn’t shy away from voicing her disapproval the whole time I pack up my things. The words “bad idea” are repeated so many times that they practically don't sound real anymore. However, when she finally manages to take a breath, I make sure to grip her by the shoulders and hit her with a lifetime supply of reassurance, repeating a line of my own to really strike home.
“One sign of danger and I’m gone.”
I can tell that she still isn’t pleased as she watches me walk out of the door with my suitcase in tow, but she still lets me leave. Probably because I told her I would call at least two times a day and keep my location on at all times so she wouldn’t fret over my whereabouts. I even send her a few texts while I’m on my way to the airport, trying to keep things light as I
