The Jumping Off Place

I was talking to my therapist about all the things today.

All the things.

My God.

So much to cover.

It’s been a busy few weeks since last I saw her.

The buyout happening.

Looking for a new place to live.

My upcoming interview with another private practice internship.

Relationship stuff unfolding.

Going back to work.

My PhD program starting in less than a month.

Paris.

France.

My relationship with Paris and France and how I have always looked for something there, something intangible, but with a similar feel for what I have looked for when I have gone to Burning Man.

That I’m not going to Burning Man this year.

And.

That I don’t feel at all bad about that, it feels right.

There is so much transition happening.

I am grieving the loss of my home.

I love my little home and it’s unfathomable to me where I am going to land next and things will be very different wherever that is.

The packing up and putting away of the life I created in this space will be hard.

Saying goodbye to it will be hard.

Thinking about it is hard.

You and I together, together in this room.

I have so many memories of this space with your face all over it.

Your body there, in that corner, on my bed, sitting, sleeping, everywhere I look, there you are.

And you are no longer here.

Removed.

Away.

Gone.

And like the feel of you in my bones, you are here in these walls, on these walls, the photos of us together, that will get packed up in a box and put away.

They won’t go up on the new walls of the new home and when I think about that.

Well.

I am sad.

I thought of it this morning and I cried.

Good thing I was on my way to therapy.

Ah.

Love.

How I shall miss you.

I miss you already.

And there is something terrifying and exciting about this next part of the journey as well.

I feel like I am at the pinnacle of a mountain about to leap off.

But instead of falling.

I see myself flying.

I just don’t know where I am going to land.

I do know.

It will be where God wants me to be and I do know that I won’t be dropped.

I will soar.

I will sail.

It doesn’t mean that I am not afraid, I am afraid.

I don’t know what to do without you.

I have believed, shit, I still believe, that we are meant to walk through this world together, hand in hand, side by side.

The ease I have with you.

The attachment I have for you.

How will I be without you?

I keep listening to this album by Herbert.

British electronic pop house music.

I got turned on to Herbert by a clerk at a record shop in Noe Valley back in 2007?

I was enthralled and for whatever reason, the music has seemed so apropos to what I am going through.

Tears fall down my face when I least expect.

Staring out the window at work looking at the avocado tree and thinking of you and all the other times I have sat and watch the wind ruffle through those leaves.

When I used to be so antsy with anticipation to leave work because I knew I was coming home to see you.

The feel of you on my skin, in my bones, against the line of my neck, the touch of breeze on my skin a whisper of where your mouth would soon be.

Gone.

But not the memories of  you.

I fear that those memories will fade when I move.

I won’t see the shadow of the bamboo blinds on the back door slatted with sunlight splayed on my bed, just that one spot when I rode astride you, my hair full of sunlight, your face golden, and your eyes, the pool of them that I fell into without having any idea of the ocean of love I had dived into.

How will I be when I can’t hold those memories of you within these small four walls?

Different.

I know.

I maybe, well, I don’t know yet, but I know it will be different.

Perhaps I won’t cry as much.

I can see you everywhere in this studio.

There is not a place your presence hasn’t touched.

You are everywhere.

Sometimes it is unbearable and sometimes it is sweet, although, truth–it was never bitter and I suspect it never will be.

I have no regrets my love.

I have none.

Nary a single thing I would have done differently.

It all carried me here.

You and I together, together in this room.

And I am at the top of the mountain and I cannot see through the fog and mist to the valley below.

I cannot tell where I will land.

Where I will go.

Only that go I must.

Only that.

I must leap.

I must leap.

I must.

I shall kiss the sky.

I shall pinion upward.

I shall.

But before I go.

I will take these last few sweet moments to hold you dear.

Darling.

Love of mine.

To hold you momentarily just a bit longer in this room.

Which really.

Is just another reflection of the room in my heart.

That room where you will never exit.

I promise.

Even when I cease to live here.

You will always live in me.

Things Change

Unexpected.

But for the better.

I won’t be going to Wisconsin for Christmas.

I will be staying here in San Francisco.

Although my person was very pro me going to Hawaii.

Who the hell isn’t interested in going to Hawaii.

As it turns out circumstances were just not a good fit for me to travel where I was going and after much heart-felt thinking I realized I needed to cancel.

I booked the ticket through an online site, Kayak, that lead to Priceline, that led to SunCountry and I was afraid I was going to have to bite the cost of the ticket.

$480 down the toilet.

According to Priceline’s little disclaimer about tickets being non-refundable, etc.

However.

Upon the urging of my person I called the airline and explained my situation and the person I talked to was super sweet and accommodating and they cancelled my ticket and gave me a voucher that I can use anytime in the next year.

I can choose to go to Wisconsin if the opportunity is right or I can travel to any of the other destinations the airline flies.

I looked at a few places, I mean, I have a week off, but it’s Christmas and the majority of the places that I was interested in going to were booked full.

So.

I have a year to re-book and that’s cool.

I am super happy that I didn’t lose the money and I am happy that I have a year, well, not quite, I booked the ticket in October, so I need to re-book by next October, but I can still use it.

I don’t know where I’ll go and I don’t have to decide right now.

I do know I will be here in the city and who knows what mischief I may get up to.

I figure I will do lots of yoga, buy a book for pleasure reading and go to the MOMA a few times.

Pleasure reading.

Drool.

Because, that shit is happening.

I mean for real.

Because I finished my Psychopathology paper!

My God.

That was a grind.

17 pages.

I thought it was supposed to be 18-20 pages but then I went back into the syllabus and saw that I had made an error, thank God I found that, and the paper “only” needed to be 15-17 pages.

So 17 pages were written.

4,912 words.

I had a friend who was like, what are you going to do to celebrate?

I responded.

Write my blog.

hahahahahahaha.

But really.

This is a celebration right here, right now.

I finished.

I made it.

I am officially half-way through the three-year program and that feels really good.

Despite my sadness at having to change my plans, I know it’s for the best, and plans change, things change, I get to be flexible and I am damn curious to see what is going to happen next.

I do believe that something awesome and fun is going to happen.

And despite a longing to be with my friend and her family I need to do what is best for the situation and that has been done.

It feels rather adult.

I guess one could say I’m growing up.

Which is good since in two hours I’ll be 44.

Heh.

“44!  No!  34!” My yoga teacher was so cute today, we’ve become friends and I invited him and his daughter and his partner to my pinball party in the Haight.

You too.

Come if you’re around.

4p.m.-7p.m. Free Gold Watch in the Haight–Waller at Stanyan.

Bring your quarters!

I’m going to be a Zazie’s for brunch and figure I’ll be signing up there around 12:30p.m. and I just got a text from my person who happens to know the manager, that she gave them the heads up that I was coming in (they don’t take reservations) and she also left me a birthday present!

I’m so lucky.

I’m so grateful.

I get to go to graduate school.

I get to go to play pinball tomorrow with my friends.

I got a voucher for my plane ticket and time to figure out where and when I am going to use it.

So many gifts.

So many.

I’m going to do yoga in the morning too.

It may be my birthday, but I can’t think of a better way to start my year than by taking care of my health and well-being.

God damn.

I really am lucky.

When I think of all the challenges and the things I have gone through to get where I am at, sitting here in this lovely home with my Christmas tree lit up and my school work done for the semester, I am absolutely amazed.

The gift of perspective might be the greatest thing I have in my life.

It is stunning to see how I have changed.

I mean.

Others have seen it and noted it, but I felt it, deep and true these last few days and I am moved by how much I have seemingly grown in such a short time.

Granted I think the seeds had been planted and watered and there was much sunlight of the spirit happening.

But I wasn’t expecting it.

I hadn’t looked for it.

I let go of a defect and found joy in its place and a lightning in my heart.

Love for myself, of myself, directed inward, and there.

A bloom.

A blossom.

A wild, fragrant flowering of brightness inside.

I feel lit up and a glow.

Warm and safe and taken care of.

I have no problems.

I really don’t.

Oh.

Yes.

Challenges, there will always be challenges, and room to grow, I don’t doubt that, there’s always room to grow, but problems, no I don’t have them.

Not now.

Not right here in this glorious moment of freedom.

School’s out for winter!

Ok.

That doesn’t sound as good as school’s out for summer.

But believe you me, after the semester I had.

It is hella sexy.

Hella.

Making Plans

I knew I was going to say yes before she even finished asking me.

I know to say yes.

Even when there was a tiny voice in my head that said, “but what about work?”

What the fuck about it?

I have no idea where I’m going to be working in May.

Granted.

Yes.

I will have a job.

One always comes around.

For instance.

This new gig tomorrow could lead to my next job (I am still working for my current family, but I’ll be Monday with this new family).  The family is fantastic, friends of my current family, living up in Eureka Valley, on a block, is it possible?  That doesn’t have parking permit issues, meaning I can park my scooter on the street without having to worry about moving it.

The 20 month old is delicious.

And.

Oh.

Wait.

For.

It.

She takes two-hour naps.

Bless you little girl.

I am so excited for two hours naps and parents that don’t work from home.

I got the impression that there will be some overlap occasionally, that one of the parents will be there, but for the most part it will be me and the 20 month old for six hours and then a mixture of the two other brothers.

Both of whom are in school.

This gig starts this Monday and will be every Monday until December 12th.

I am thinking at that time I will have secured my next gig, whatever that will be.

I may also take a little time off at that time, give myself a week or so to let myself have a few days off to acclimate and transition.

Plus.

I’ll be thick into my final papers for the semester.

But.

I’m also thinking further ahead.

All the way to May.

Yeah.

Like that.

Because today I was asked if I wanted to go on a trip to France in May.

Of course I said yes.

Duh.

I already have looked for tickets.

I know better than to not say yes.

Especially when I was told that I would have all my housing covered.

I would stay with my friend and her family.

She won’t be as available to me as if we were really going on holiday together, she’ll be studying for her exams in France, but I was like.

WHATEVER.

She’s my dear friend.

I love her.

Of course I’m going to say yes.

Besides.

Hello.

FRANCE.

Yes, please.

We would actually go to a few places, not just Paris, take the TGV to Provence, for instance and to the seaside.

Oh yes, I don’t care where I’m working, I can make that work.

Plus, I’ll have a little more financial aid that will come into my pocket come Spring semester.

After my disbursement was made, paying for my summer classes, retreat (intensive, it was an intensive), and my current semester I received $675.

Which you know.

Means working as much as I can to cover the rest of my costs, because that’s basically a half month of rent.

No food.

No phone.

No gas for the scooter.

No insurance.

Definitely no yoga.

Just some money toward 1/2 a month of rent.

I remember laughing to myself when my current employer asked if I would still want to work when I won the scholarship I was awarded.

Um.

Yeah.

I have to.

I live in San Francisco.

But that doesn’t mean I can’t save a for a ten-day jaunt to France.

I can fucking well do that, especially if I don’t have to worry about the cost of hotels and places to stay.

Plus, South of France in May?

Of course I said yes.

I am still saying yes.

I have no clue how it will work out, but I told my friend I knew it would and yes, what a perfect way to cap off the end of the second year of school with a trip with one of my dearest to France.

I’d still fly into Paris, and probably from Paris too.

The TGV, the bullet train, will get me to and from really quick and it’s super affordable.

God.

I am so excited.

This will definitely be a different trip for me than the last time I went to Paris.

First, it will be in Spring.

I haven’t been in Paris in Spring in a while.

It really is the best time to go.

And then to the South of France, in warm weather, all my sundresses are longing to be donned, all my sandals ready to be buckled around my ankles.

Fields of lavender.

The sea-side.

The pool with deck chairs.

Oh goodness.

Such deliciousness awaits, strolls with my friend in the dusk, after dinner when she ends her day of study.

Farmer’s markets, flower markets, and I’m sure I’ll stumble upon some art.

I usually manage.

Second.

It will not be with a man who I am in an unrequited love relationship with.

Nope.

No thank you.

I was deleting some files earlier and stumbled across a section of photos of the two of us in LA last summer and my heart banged around in my chest and I felt some sorrow, a sweep of sadness.

I deleted some of them, but I kept the majority.

I don’t have to wallow in something that never came to fruition, but there was love there and to be reminded of having been loved and having loved another, is a great blessing, even if it was a painful experience.

My.

Oh.

Fucking.

My.

How I did grow.

So.

Yes.

Yes, please, another experience with my dearest Paris.

And my first time going to Provence.

I have been to the South of France, Toulouse, to be exact, but not since 2002 and it was just three days and well, I was tipping back the cocktails a wee bit, so my experience I dare say this time around will be much sweeter, happier, and joyful.

I knew I was going to be going back to France again, I just wasn’t expecting the conversation to pop up today.

How glad I am it did.

It colored everything with delight.

My sweet, sweet life.

Ma vie en rose.

(My life in the pink)

How lucky am I?

Luckiest girl in the world.

Seriously.

 

OMFG

OHMYFUCKINGGOD.

OHMYFUCKINGGOD.

OHMYMOTHERFUCKINGGOD.

Did I read that right?

I think I had to read the message three times because I couldn’t fucking breathe and then I was on the phone so fast it was ridiculous.

To whit.

The following (with certain bits and pieces deleted for anonymity sake) is the message I received this morning.

(This morning when I woke up mildly anxious to figure out how I was going to get off playa.)

Carmen; This is ______, T’s friend from J’s birthday (leader in _______)

 

T told me that you need a ride back from the playa Wednesday

 

We have a commercial pilot in camp, he is bringing his 3 seater personal Cessna

 

He’s flying out Wednesday to the Bay Area to pick up our camp lead’s son and he has a seat on the plane (only room for a small bag so you’d have to send your stuff home with someone else outside of our camp)

 

wanted to offer you this option as your first playa gift…. call me 123-456-7890 if you are interested

Am I interested?

Oh holy sweet Jesus, of course I’m interested!

I don’t think I have ever gotten on a phone so fucking fast in my life.

It rang through and the next thing you know we are chatting like the old friends, as it turns out, old alumni!

She went to UW Madison like me, graduated a year after me, knew all the old haunts, Essen Haus, Angelic Brewing Company, and had in fact, almost not answered the phone because she thought it might be someone soliciting donations from the UW Alumni fund.

I still have my old 608 number from Wisconsin.

Hehehehe.

It was just the most astounding, amazing, over the top offer.

I can’t freaking believe it was offered, that I was given such a gift.

I’m fucking FLYING back from the Black Rock City Airport to an as of yet undisclosed Bay Area airport.

It’s a small plane, so I don’t believe it can land at SFO.

And frankly, I don’t care, I can get a bus, a train, a Lyft, a ride from so many places once I’m back in the area, I am so not worried about that part.

The only hitch is that I have to get someone to bring my gear back from playa to San Francisco.  It’s not much, but it’s stuff, tent, a few bins, a cooler, my air mattress, a folding camp chair.

I will start putting the feelers out tomorrow.

I just didn’t have the band width to do it today.

It was just a great big day all around.

I couldn’t even post it up to social media for a while because I was afraid the offer might suddenly poof!  Disappear and it was just all a figment of my very fertile imagination.

I told a few friends first.

That was fun.

The first person I told was my friend who happened to have coffee a few days back with the lady who gifted me the ride, she told me what had gone down.

They were talking all things Burning Man and my dear friend (who I happened to meet at Burning Man 9 years ago this burn!) mentioned that I was going and that I had to come back early from the event, Wednesday, to be in the city for my school program and that she had no idea how I was going to manage that.

I wasn’t doing too bad on that front, actually.

I had a friend at school offer to pick me up in Reno and get me back from there if I couldn’t find a ride, she would leave for school a day early–she commutes in from Reno–to get me.

I would just have to figure out how to get off playa, get my gear in someone’s vehicle, and manage to connect somewhere in Reno.

Tough.

But not impossible.

Then of course, the impossible happened.

When I talked with my new friend on the phone, go Badgers!  She told me the story and then said, “well, I knew how you were going to get home,” and that’s when she message me.

She was, I swear, almost as happy to gift it to me as I was to receive the gift.

Although, I feel I might have a little edge on being overwhelmingly happy with the turn of events.

Fuck me.

I’m flying home in a Cessna!

I love airplanes.

I love flying.

I secretly would love an airplane someday.

A pilot’s license would be awesome.

I have been up in airplanes before at Burning Man.

I met and befriend a gentleman who goes be Blind Pilot a few years ago and got to go up not once, but twice in his plane.

The thought of getting to fly all the way back to San Francisco is just amazing to me and feels like the chance of a lifetime.

I told a friend tonight and she freaked out a little, “wear a helmet!”

Giggles.

I’m not scared of flying.

I’m just that type of person.

And if I don’t wear a helmet when I’m riding my one speed whip around San Francisco I certainly don’t expect or plan on wearing one in a plane, regardless of how small it is.

I’m so psyched.

I’m so grateful.

I had these moments today that just blew fairy dust and sugar crystals deep, deep, deep into my heart.

Oh, Burning Man, how do I love thee.

Year ten.

Amazing, that.

It’s going to be short, just a four day shot, but my God, it’s really shaping up to be a fantastic burn.

I have some packing to do this weekend, but I’m ready for it, I have a clear schedule with few responsibilities after having canceled my date (which doesn’t mean I’m not up for a date, I just wasn’t able to quite match the schedule of the person who wanted to see me).

I do have to go back to Glenn Ellen on Monday.

I have the option of going on Sunday night, but I think I’m going to let myself sleep here Sunday night and just get up early and commute to work against the traffic.

It should be easier going out of the city.

Not that I’m even going to bother worrying about that.

It’s Friday.

I’m home for the weekend.

And I got a fucking FLIGHT back from the playa.

Luckiest girl in the world.

For real.

It Was Good

It was hard.

But in the end, it was good.

Now, it’s good to be home again.

Home in San Francisco.

“Next time, I will come to you,” my mom said, “are there any hotels around you that are reasonable?”

There are.

And I am happy to have her.

It will be some time, she’s older and aging and that was hard to see, my mom, moving so slowly, her hips and knees kaput.

She informed me that she has to have a double hip and double knee replacement.

Jesus, lord.

That is a lot of surgery.

But when it’s done and she has had some time to be convalescent, then yes, a visit.  I would love to have my mom for a visit.

There was a time, and not too long ago that the thought would have had me running for the hills.

But people change.

I changed.

And now I want to continue having a relationship with my mom.

I would even like to travel with her.

There are things, in Paris, I would love to show her–her favorite artist is Monet–like the Musee Monet de Montmarttan in the 16th.  Or the Orangerie with all the Monet Water Lillies and scenes from Giverney.

That is off in the future and hazy as all get out, but there and I feel a nice there, like yeah, this could happen.

And the gift of perspective is huge, she and I have both changed.

My sister has changed too.

And I did not let myself acknowledge it or pay tribute to the emotions, but they did come out a bit when I was chatting with my housemate about the trip.

It was hard.

Hard to see where she and I separated, went our own ways, had our own challenges.  I felt like I was just sort of a witness, a bystander to a drive by hit and family run, that I got a little bowled over by it all.

It was a lot to pack into the two and a half short days I was there, down in Florida, down in golf cart land, senior citizen play land, with all the pastel ladies and white-haired gents, socks and sandals and little dogs running about, and yes, the pink flamingos on the lawns.

It was good.

Good to hug my sister, see her growth, hell, see my growth, and just be a witness.

It felt tender and sweet and fragile.

But I feel just like my roots grasped new soil, so too are hers, and that is a wonderful thing to witness.

Even, if after a while, I was done with it and ready to go back to where I belong.

I was so excited to be home, the sun shining, my friend picking me up at the airport, a cold apple on the dashboard waiting for me, which was eaten immediately!

“Help yourself to as much as you want,” the stewardess said as she walked along the aisle with a box full of foil packages of salted, sweet, crunchy, crap for snacking.

“Thank you, I am fine,” I said and went back to my Naked smoothie and apple I had procured in the airport.

Then I nodded off, my computer battery had died, midway through the movie I was watching and I was done with reading my magazine.  I snuggled into my head pillow and dozed off.

Only to be awakened by the screaming child throwing things at his mother a little while later.

Ah, yes, that was a fun time.

I stayed out of it, but if I had heard the woman threaten to take the child into the bathroom and spank him one more time I was going to get up and spank her.

“Do you want a spanking?” She demanded, “sit down!”

The child sniffled, whined, and then screamed some more.

Oh dear lord.

Not my place, not my place, not my place.

I just did my best to ignore it and spent a lot of time drifting in and out of nap land, periodically waking up from a holler, a shoe kick, a thrown cup ( and a batman doll, robin figurine, Woody the Cowboy toy, phone, and shoes), thank god you’re not mine, kid, I thought.

Then, well, she’s just doing the best she can.

Not a fan of people who use spanking as a tactic to punish their children, but well, it’s not my business, now is it?

Actually I am really opposed to people who hit their kids, but what was I going to do?

Give her a lecture on the plane.

Explain that her lack of boundary setting was the reason for the child’s outlandish behavior?

Nope.

But as I watched the dynamics between my mom, my sister, my mom’s partner, and myself, I see how those dramas play out over time and where they can change and perhaps develop into something less than a drama and move toward healthy, loving, relationships.

Today’s principle?

Patience.

Patience with the kiosk at the airport that wanted to charge me for checking in.

Patience with the lines at security.

Patience for the tired mom and weary child.

Patience for the tired mom and the weary child, me.

Love for them all.

Sister, mother, self.

Hard work.

Yup.

Worth the effort?

Abso-fucking-lutely.

Will I be headed down to Florida any time soon for another repeat?

Probably not, I won’t rule it out, but I feel like this trip was worth it, the suiting up and the showing up.

And as I sat watching the family eat dinner, the niece sitting too shy on the couch to join us at the table, my sister and her husband, my mother and her partner, I saw that, yeah, life is messy, and hard, and difficult.

But when one person starts showing up, others do too.

I can join in the mess.

I don’t have to sit in it, but I can partake for a little while.

Then, get up, dust myself off, hop a plane, and remember that I did it for them.

Not for me.

This was not about me and that was a good thing to recognize.

Hard.

But yes.

Good.

Travel Time

ARGH.

Double argh.

My flight has been delayed.

Thank goodness it wasn’t cancelled, which when I was first checking in it did sound like it was, weather somewhere messing things up.

Not here.

Here, it’s clear as a bell, I can tell you, I don’t have to be up in the weather tower to tell you, I can just look out the window to the jet way.

The barren jetway where there is no plane, no plane at all.

I was to catch a red-eye leaving SFO, San Francisco International Airport, at 11:56 a.m.  Which I was early for my check in anyhow, it happens that my commute time from train to BART was far faster than I suspected it would be and the terminal airport was empty.

No security line.

No standing in line.

An apologetic clerk at the front was the only indication to me that something was off.  However, I was happy to be here, happy to be on my way, happy to be moving.

That is until I overheard someone in the terminal complain about the flight delay.

What flight delay?

Oh.

That one.

The one that I am on.

Jesus, Mary, and Joseph.

Really?

Grr.

Thank goodness there’s a Pete’s Coffee and Tea in the terminal.

I got myself an apple and a cup of tea and flipped through my magazine for a while.  I have plenty of time to blog, and fortunately there is free wifi here and plenty of outlets.

I have also three movies on down load in my computer, so I have plenty to do and I will be quite fine.

I splurged and bought an airplane travel pillow along with a bottle of water and the magazine from the kiosk in the terminal.

This is not the worst travel delay I have ever experienced, really, it’s just more of a hassle than anything else, one and a half hours less of sleep for me.

Hopefully my connecting flight will be on time.

The clerk did say that I should be able to make my flight, that in effect, I would just be spending the time that I would have in Atlanta in a waiting area, here in a waiting area.

All time is not my time.

I can choose, however, to make the best of it.

How often do I sit still anyhow?

Not very.

I will be tired I am sure, but in the end, it’s probably all for the best.

I have a hard time sleeping on airplanes.

I get super excited and it’s hard for me to get calm down enough to fly.

I did follow my friend’s advice about getting up earlier than I would have normally.  I woke up nearly an hour and a half before my alarm was to go off.  Thereby getting to my laundry, shower, breakfast, and writing routine with loads of time to spare before I needed to make my way to 7th and Irving for my tete a tete at Tart to Tart.

I spent the majority of my day in the 7th and Irving neighborhood, having coffee and a long discourse at the Tart to Tart then hopping across the street for lunch and more talking with another at Crepevine.

Then a  little “spa” time for me and a manicure, pedicure, and eyebrow waxing at the nail salon.

Today has been an excuse to read magazines like a pro.

And sit on my butt.

And soon to watch a lot of movies.

I have my set of head phones with me, my nice fat Skull Candy ones with the big ear phones that block out all noise and sit comfortably on my head.

The ones I wore on my flight previously to Florida the last time I saw my mom, just before flying out to Paris.

It felt like going in reverse at one point today.

The last time I flew out from SFO it was to Paris.

Time feels all synchronous and deja vu’y.

I just paid off my Paris return flight ticket yesterday and this feels like some weird loop-hole of time that I fell into.

I almost felt as nervous preparing for this flight as I did for the one to Paris.

A friend called me before I headed off into the night to the airport and we chatted about family and sibling relationships and I realized, just like I did when I travelled to Paris, that all I had to do was the next action in front of me.

Once I was off the phone I simply finished packing my suitcase and calmly ate my dinner.  I did feel anxious to get moving, anxiety that I can obviously see now I had no need for, but it was not overwhelming and I knew that I was on the way with nothing forgotten.

In fact, I feel like a real adult traveller, with my nice suitcase that I haven’t used since returning from Paris and my new airplane pillow, with the magazine and the charger on my phone, having a laptop, my Iphone, a bottle of water, and the wherewithal to take care of myself.

I have grown up by traveling.

I have also learned that I don’t have to travel in a skimpy manner.

I packed my suitcase rather than just an overnight bag.

I brought a couple of extra pieces of clothing I probably won’t use, but might and as such are nice to have with me, a couple of pairs of shoes, and just having the spare room to not squash everything into my messenger bag is really nice.

I realize that traveling is a part of who I am.

I am a traveller.

I do it pretty well.

Even when my flight is delayed.

I have things to occupy my time and I have the disposition that makes me a calm traveller. I am not really all that irked that my flight is delayed.

It’s an extra hour and a half in a terminal in an airport that I am happy to say is my home base, the place I have flown most to and from in my life.

It feels fortuitous even, lucky, somehow to be doing this travel.

I may change my mind about that if I miss my connecting flight, but for the moment.

All is well in the world.

Just a tiny bit delayed.