I am so used to having regular contact with my adult children that the thought of so much distance is the scariest and hardest part of the move. To keep in touch, we plan on having weekly video chats. We plan on keeping in touch through What's App messages and photos. We already use a group chat for staying connected on a regular basis. Plus, Mark and I plan on visiting the United States at least twice a year and we hope that the kids can make it to Costa Rica yearly.
But what about the unplanned? What about an emergency? What if my kids need me? The fasted we could get to our eldest son Quincy in Los Angeles would be over ten hours assuming a direct flight from SJO to LAX was immediately available. (15 minute drive from our house to Quepos, wait time at our little airport, a 22-minute flight to SJO, two hours at SJO, a six hour international flight, followed by an hour to clear customs.) It would take another three and a half hours to get to our youngest son Owen in Fresno.
Logically, I know that in a true emergency, I wouldn't really be able to do anything even if I was ten minutes away. I'm not an EMT worker or an ER doc. I'm not trained for search and rescue. I can't operate the jaws of life. While I know that the difference between ten minutes and 24 hours in most situations will make almost no difference, logic isn't helping.
For now, I am spending as much time with the kids as possible. I'm collecting and relishing as many hugs as I can to hold me over until October.
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