My first work trip for 2025.  It’s in NYC.

Not entirely fabulous and the only reason why I say this is that I’m from NYC. The city isn’t unique to me.

Now, don’t get me wrong.

NY is without a doubt, the greatest city on earth.  However, I’m used to the amazing energy. I’m used to the diversity, glitz and glamour that makes NY a distinctive beacon of awe and excitement.

So going to New York isn’t a life changing work trip, however, I haven’t seen my family in a while, and this work trip is a good moment to pop in.

Traveling back to my hometown for work feels like a fitting kick off to a new travel year.  

 

The Evolution of a Single Mom’s Travel

So, I’ve traveled for work going on 13 years now. Started when my youngest, Simo, was only 4 years old.

Those were the hardest years of my career as a meeting planner. 

Reasons being, my babies were so young and their dad, was completely unsupportive and resentful that I fell into a career that, to quote him in Family Court: “Isn’t suitable for a mother.”

If it wasn’t for the cousins stepping in and bearing the load of childcare, I have no idea what I’d do to keep my career and subsequently, a roof over these children’s heads. 

I owe my family a debt a gratitude that a simple “thank you” cannot remotely cover.

But, as the boys get older, work travel, which I once abhorred, became easier to manage.

Now, instead of a burden, it becomes a time out from day-to-day duties.  An opportunity to escape for a couple of days and experience something out of the ordinary. 

As I gear up to fly to NY to manage this meeting, I embrace how travel has changed for me. 

A change of perspective does wonders for maintaining a positive outlook on life. 

The Evolution of this single mom’s travel started at resentment and now, I’ve landed at gratitude.  It’s time to head down ATL Hartsfield and go drink up the free liquor in the Delta Sky Lounge baby! 

 

Developing and Keeping Routines 

 

One of my resolutions is to develop a routine and approach everything systematically.

So, waking up, I give myself a checklist:

1. Up at 5:45 am to make sure the 14-year-old leaves the house with a coat. 
2. Make Bougie Kitty his week’s supply of cat food. 
3. Start weight training (3rd Season of Harlem is here and Meghan Goode is reminding me to tone up and go down one dress size). 

I will say though, one major change in my work travel routine that has benefited my mental health is no more early morning flights.

In my 30’s. I’d catch ridiculously early morning flights, like, From NYC to Las Vegas, departing at 7:00 AM. I’d had to be up at like 3:00AM!

Absolutely awful.  Now, I fly in the evening before, not the day of the meeting.

Fact is, I’m now a middle-aged woman. 

Flying into a city and hitting the ground running and working isn’t suitable for me anymore.  Travel, by its very nature is exhausting.  I need time to land, catch a great dinner and a full night’s sleep. 

 

An Ode to NYC Public Transportation

 

Landing in NY is always exciting.  It’s such a rush for me.  Honestly, I think of NY as ancestry; an extension of lineage, if you will. 

After popping into the Delta Sky Club to grab a couple of calls, I make my way to Long Island.  My first stop is to see my heart; my cousin, Kee-Kee. 

Thankfully, NYC has one of, if not the best public transportation systems in the country.  It’s so easy for me to jump from JFK’s Airtran to the LIRR, The Long Island Railroad. 

Again, there’s something electric about being at the Jamica LIRR hub. 

Even the homeless have a certain swagger and charm you don’t see in another cities:

Homeless Guy: “Miss, you got any cash?”
Beans: “I’m sorry, I don’t carry cash.”
Homeless Guy: “Yeah? But you sure do look like a million bucks!”

Not Homeless sending me on my way, and I’m blushing.

But when I tell you, the nostalgia of it all!

Being on the LIRR reminds me of all the memories I have on Long Island and in larger part, NYC public transportation as a whole. 

Enjoying a train ride into Manhattan when the boys were young to catch a basketball game at Madison Square Garden.  Those long train rides from the suburbs into Brooklyn to work. 

Memories on public transportation stretch as far back as high school, grabbing the 2 train and getting off at Atlantic Avenue.

Recollections even progress to shortly after my mom’s death, on the train. 

Headed to see my family to make arrangements, I had an enchanted conversation with a man who was mesmerized by name: “Sabine…The Sabine Women“.    I felt such a pull; he had an angelic energy surrounding him.  Though only a short conversation, I felt a real tie; I never forget him. 

It all comes back during that short, 20-minute ride to Valley Stream. It was like a love song, yes.  An ode to NYC Public Transportation. A melody on the metro. 

I take my time and hum a tune, right there, on the train. 

 

Family – A Time to Heal 

 

That evening, I connect with more than my cousin Kee-Kee.

Pouring me a refreshing red cup of Luc Belair Rose (we’re a touch “Boughetto”), he takes me to see the OG family: J, his wife Ms. Flo and their daughter, Ms. Nikki Baby.

I’ve been a little sad recently, dealing with life, so every word we speak coats my soul like medicine.

Every laugh with family acting as another stitch, closing my emotional wounds.   

With reassurances and love, I leave their home knowing this is a start of healing for me.   I’m not alone and there are people who care deeply for me.  

It’s impossible to believe you can navigate through life without anyone.

At the very minimum, we all need a family. They just make the journey called life easier.  At that moment, family acted as a conduit of healing. 

I head back to my hotel. Hungry.

I hit a pizzeria on the corner. Traveling to NYC and not eating pizza is considered the highest levels of blasphemy. Pizza hits the spot. 

 

The Corporate Work Looks

 

Next two days. I work.

One thing I love about being a meeting planner is that it allows me to get out of the house and dress up. 

Working from home, it’s easy to throw on just anything and slide in front of a computer.  Being onsite, in the corporate event planning space means you need to dress it up a bit. 

My go to look for work are dresses.  I love them because they’re pragmatic, easy to throw on, limited ironing (if any) and they accentuate my figure.

Standing at an underwhelming 5’3, I love a good four-inch heel for height.

I’m totally a Mary J. Blige boot girl too.  However, as my workdays can sometimes stretch into 12 or 13-hour days, I always have a pair of fashion sneakers to switch into. 

Once my meeting wraps, my NY visit culminates with visiting my eldest living cousin and her husband, my surrogate “Granpah.” 

 

In Sickness & in Health

 

My cousin and Granpah are in their 80’s.  As you can imagine, they aren’t exactly in the best health.  However, they are together. In sickness and in health. 

As we catch up and they explain how it’s getting harder to move around, I can’t help but think and, quite frankly envy, the companionship: they have in each other. It really is the greatest gift. 

Now let me say, married for over 60 years, it wasn’t an easy road to walk. 

There was a lot my cousin had to forgive as I’m sure Grandpah had to make his own concessions as well.  But the light at the end of the tunnel is that neither of them need to bear sickness and aging alone. 

As I leave the visit and wait for an Uber from Crown Heights back to JFK a question suddenly hits me: Is that what it’s all about? Having someone? Companionship?

My cousin’s generation (70 to 80-years-old) seldom divorced. 

These folks endured.  From outside babies, adultery, destructive vices, financial woes, you name it, they were taught to grit and bear it.  Keep the family together at all costs.  

So, is that what it’s all about?

Pushing through the darkest and unhappiest of times so when we inevitably approach the other end of life, the great transition, this is not an uncertainty you face alone? 

Driving by the apartment buildings, I ponder. 

 

Time to Let the Mouse Go 

 

Didn’t get upgraded to first class on the flight back to ATL. Damn. 

But that turns out to be a good thing.  There was a blissfully single lesson waiting for your girl Beans. 

The woman sitting next to me, just helped her 20-year-old daughter move into NYC.

Feeling a mixture of emotions, she explained how sad and nervous she was leaving her daughter and flying back to home to Florida. 

I feel a wave of despair. 

Every time I hear of a young adult around my son’s age doing well, it’s another coat of sadness reflecting my failures as a parent. I push through though, set aside my inner turmoil and give words of encouragement. 

I assure my seatmate she has nothing to worry about.  The fact that her daughter has the drive and the resources to move to a city like New York at the incredibly young age of 20 is a testament to what a great mother she is. 

I tell her: “You raised a Super Woman.”

As we deboard the plane, I say, once again, your daughter will be fine. 

This exchange is when the lesson kicks in.  In the words of the incomparable Sutton Stracke of The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills: “It’s Time to Let the Mouse Go.”

If sadness has me in a chokehold in every instance that I hear of someone’s child doing well, I’m creating a prison of sorrow that will have far reaching consequences for my mental heal; and will affect my ability to properly show up for my youngest son.

Have I been the perfect parent? No.  No parent is perfect. 

Have there been missteps on my end? 

Yes.  However, my parental mistakes do not define me and neither am I the sum of my mistakes.

I’m a strong, highly capable, single mother who worked multiple jobs to ensure my children had a life I only dreamed of when I was their age.  

No matter how much you pour into your children, in the end, there’s free will. 

They can use this free will to either set up a highly productive and impactful life or they can use it and make not-so-good decisions to their detriment. 

In the end, it’s time to let the mouse go.  I need to forgive myself, heal, and fill in the blanks for my youngest son.  

 

Until my next travels friends… 

Blissfully Single and Yours