From My Previous Journals (15 March 2002)

12:26 pm

I am in the airport, listening to the sound of running water and pretty worn out… but feeling good because I am leaving today. Or should I say because I am arriving today? To arrive, to finally be where I was headed. The journey revisited for the first time, or was that from a poem I wrote so many years ago?

I am in the airport scene of so many disappointments and a time of exploration. Maybe not this particular airport, there have been others. I’m wearing white and swearing from exertion. NOT a good combination, I assure you. Perhaps I should be wearing green instead, but it is already on the plane.

I always knew I would fly someday. Lift my wings to the sky and soar high above the cumulus clouds, into someone’s idea of heaven. That wouldn’t have worked, however. I’m always too forcibly grounded for my own good.

But today I will fly, as bald as the day I was born but with a teensy bit more knowledge in this head of mine. I want lemon-creme filled cookies like I used to eat back in the 90s, back where ideals were still relevant and horses wore neckties. Do I still own a necktie or sell them all to the gypsies who disguised themselves as Jehovah’s Witness? Why did I just capitalize that? Force of habit, I guess. I get used to things after awhile, most things. And yet I am still here… but moving.

I am in an airport, it could be anywhere in the world. I have books with me to pass the time, but you are all I need. And I wonder where you are. I wonder if your wings will carry you to me and back again.

Gazing wistfully at this indoor fountain and feeling a distinct shade of lavender, which suits me well for the trip. So why did I pick white, anyway?

Sam