Packing For My Trip

I am having a new sensation as I get ready to leave tomorrow for my trip to Canada: trepidation.  I am what they always call an "inveterate traveler."  Starting with trips to boarding school at fourteen alone from Iowa to Massachusetts, preceded by train rides with my sister and some of the family help from Iowa to New England to our summer home, and then off to Puerto Rico at seventeen for the summer, well, you get the idea.  Intrepid.  But now fearful in the extreme.  I think I have the unsteadiness issue well in hand.  My roller suitcase I will check straight through to Boston where I am meeting my daughters.  The transfer in Atlanta will be accomplished from a wheelchair, really the only way to get through that monstrous place, when everything has become so much more confusing.  One daughter will be at the baggage carousel at Logan Airport and we will go to an airport hotel.  Next morning we will be joined by her sister and off we go to Canada to see the new great grandson and his parents and indeed his grandfather, my son, who will be celebrating a birthday while we are there.  So far so good, and during our stay we will visit with the tiny babe and his parents, and try to stay clear of them most of the time.  I vividly remember well meaning visiting parents when my wife and I were dealing with new borns.  Cape Breton is beautiful and one of my daughters and I will sight see while the other helps out.  I anticipate staying in the hotel much of the time.  I just cannot walk anymore, even with a cane.  I am at my best on a treadmill holding on to the railings.  A dismal thought but true.  Was this a foolish plan?  I so much wanted to see the baby boy, after having enjoyed the first birthday of his cousin, my great granddaughter down here in Florida.  I used to flit off to New York City all the time.  I see it through a scrim.  Is the feebleness real or a projection of inner uncertainty about my ability at mastery?  Well, we'll see.  I am signing off for the next week.  Ciao!