Rushing Off to London
Nerves are a funny thing. As soon as I walked through security at Honolulu International this morning, I started to develop a mystery cough. By the time I reached the gate, this little tickle was becoming hard to ignore. It was turning into a full-blown hack, and a wet one at that. Stuff was coming up, big time. It felt like old stuff too, as if the phlegm of 40,000 years had waited for the perfect moment to emerge from its ancient, dark hiding spot in my lungs.
Stepping onto the plane, I begin the search for my assigned seat, 31E. A dreaded middle seat. Cue more coughing. I locate it smack dab in the middle of the jam-packed 767, and to my surprise there is an elderly man sitting there, alongside a woman who I presume to be his wife. I kindly suggest to him that this is my seat, or at least that is what my boarding pass is telling me. He offers me a barter: 34G instead. I glance a few rows back. There it is. Right on the aisle, just the way I like it. I smile and nod in steadfast agreement, toss my backpack into the overhead bin, and pour myself into my home for the next five hours. I kinda like 34G. It's narrow, but pretty perfect otherwise. I close my eyes and breathe for what feels like the first time all morning. One wave of complete relaxation washes over me, followed by a second, more intense wave that manages to draw a rogue tear or two from my eyes. A big smile appears. Huge. And that cough? Disappeared without a trace.
One thought pulses through my brain: WOW. I'm here at last, and there is no going back, not as if I would ever want to.
The journey is underway. Just me and my backpack, which by the way is not even full. So what made the cut? Well, let's see. Seven shirts, two pairs of pants, board shorts, one pair of slippers (or flip-flops for the mainlanders out there), boxers, socks, toiletries, a guidebook, my Ipad, and a partridge in a pear tree. Oh, and a few leis. Not the flowery ones, but those of the homemade non-perishable variety. The same ones I received on my last day at Starbucks a mere ten days ago (was it only that long? I swear I think some dinosaurs were in attendance). Anyway, the idea to bring these local souvenirs came to me one day upon waking. I certainly loved getting them, and I have a feeling someone else will be just as happy to receive one. Leis make people happy, the way that balloons and puppies make people happy. Giving them away just feels right.
Those leis never belonged to me anyway. At this point, I'm not exactly sure what does. Everything seems so exchangeable, or at the very least able to be recycled through the Universe in whatever way is deemed appropriate in the moment. Prepping my backpack was a real eye opener. Packing heavy was never an option, but the more I considered what needed to be included, the less I wanted to put in there. I don't need much. I don't have much to begin with. I do still have my apartment, now being cared for by my good friend Jill (thank you, Jilly!). I will admit that it felt a little strange to leave the keys behind, kind of the same way that it felt strange to sleep late every day after quitting my job and not knowing when I would be employed next. Of course it all felt strange. How could it not? But it also felt really, really awesome.
I have traded those keys in for the open road, and am en route to London. It is only time to relax, enjoy every moment, and trust that the future will take care of itself somehow. But first things first. Back here in the present, coasting at 36,000 feet above the big blue Pacific, all of this feels like a rush of blood to the head. There is a swirling going on all around me, slightly intoxicating yet comforting in an otherworldly sort of way. As my head spins, I can't help but think of a text conversation I had yesterday with my best friend, my cousin Maria, who wondered what state of mind I was in with only one day left before departing. I replied that I was honestly a bit stunned. She assured me that was good, to which I texted back asking her what the hell I was doing (along with lots of exclamation marks and tongue firmly planted in cheek). I knew exactly what I was doing. But her simple reply probably explains better than anything else the way I am feeling right now.
Living, she said. LIVING.
That's it. Life anew. Strange, but totally awesome. What a rush.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
Stepping onto the plane, I begin the search for my assigned seat, 31E. A dreaded middle seat. Cue more coughing. I locate it smack dab in the middle of the jam-packed 767, and to my surprise there is an elderly man sitting there, alongside a woman who I presume to be his wife. I kindly suggest to him that this is my seat, or at least that is what my boarding pass is telling me. He offers me a barter: 34G instead. I glance a few rows back. There it is. Right on the aisle, just the way I like it. I smile and nod in steadfast agreement, toss my backpack into the overhead bin, and pour myself into my home for the next five hours. I kinda like 34G. It's narrow, but pretty perfect otherwise. I close my eyes and breathe for what feels like the first time all morning. One wave of complete relaxation washes over me, followed by a second, more intense wave that manages to draw a rogue tear or two from my eyes. A big smile appears. Huge. And that cough? Disappeared without a trace.
One thought pulses through my brain: WOW. I'm here at last, and there is no going back, not as if I would ever want to.
The journey is underway. Just me and my backpack, which by the way is not even full. So what made the cut? Well, let's see. Seven shirts, two pairs of pants, board shorts, one pair of slippers (or flip-flops for the mainlanders out there), boxers, socks, toiletries, a guidebook, my Ipad, and a partridge in a pear tree. Oh, and a few leis. Not the flowery ones, but those of the homemade non-perishable variety. The same ones I received on my last day at Starbucks a mere ten days ago (was it only that long? I swear I think some dinosaurs were in attendance). Anyway, the idea to bring these local souvenirs came to me one day upon waking. I certainly loved getting them, and I have a feeling someone else will be just as happy to receive one. Leis make people happy, the way that balloons and puppies make people happy. Giving them away just feels right.
Those leis never belonged to me anyway. At this point, I'm not exactly sure what does. Everything seems so exchangeable, or at the very least able to be recycled through the Universe in whatever way is deemed appropriate in the moment. Prepping my backpack was a real eye opener. Packing heavy was never an option, but the more I considered what needed to be included, the less I wanted to put in there. I don't need much. I don't have much to begin with. I do still have my apartment, now being cared for by my good friend Jill (thank you, Jilly!). I will admit that it felt a little strange to leave the keys behind, kind of the same way that it felt strange to sleep late every day after quitting my job and not knowing when I would be employed next. Of course it all felt strange. How could it not? But it also felt really, really awesome.
I have traded those keys in for the open road, and am en route to London. It is only time to relax, enjoy every moment, and trust that the future will take care of itself somehow. But first things first. Back here in the present, coasting at 36,000 feet above the big blue Pacific, all of this feels like a rush of blood to the head. There is a swirling going on all around me, slightly intoxicating yet comforting in an otherworldly sort of way. As my head spins, I can't help but think of a text conversation I had yesterday with my best friend, my cousin Maria, who wondered what state of mind I was in with only one day left before departing. I replied that I was honestly a bit stunned. She assured me that was good, to which I texted back asking her what the hell I was doing (along with lots of exclamation marks and tongue firmly planted in cheek). I knew exactly what I was doing. But her simple reply probably explains better than anything else the way I am feeling right now.
Living, she said. LIVING.
That's it. Life anew. Strange, but totally awesome. What a rush.
- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad
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