A travel day.
Have I mentioned I dislike flying?
Of course I have.
The spouse told me years ago that he understood how much I want to go off and do these things because I will actually get on a plane. I've been known to rearrange our vacations so that I don't have to get on a plane.
For this, I will get on a plane.
My life falling into place.
Sometimes I travel without conscious thought, just the pleasure of movement, of looking, of being in places at once familiar and ever changing. Knowing I'm doing something that makes friends shake their heads and say, "And you think you know someone for 20 years..."
People live here, I used to think as a child visiting a land where the zip codes and telephone prefixes were different. People breathe here, I marvelled, looking at a Little League diamond lit up on a summer night hundreds of miles away from where I lived.
Travel is more deliberate this time, a time of leavings, endings and beginnings, work to be done, truths to be accepted.
Unpleasantness rears its head, of course, as it did at the Coliseo, and that shook me more than I like to admit. I cringe thinking I might have to deal with something similar again, but if I do, I will.
I don't like to fly. In the air, I have no control. I like terra firma, that which is concrete and clear cut. But every time I force myself out the door, I'm closer to something. My own life, the lives of others, the work I'm meant to do next.
There's always that next.
And there's that precious three hours where I am allowed just to be.
Go listen to some music: "On the Road Again" from the album The Essential Willie Nelson by Willie Nelson.