There was a day in time where I sat alone in an airport surrounded by my belongs barely contained in their hot pink prisons. I sat lonely and lost waiting for my boarding call like pilgrims wait to hear from god. I know the sorrow of leaving behind and moving on. I find myself on the other end of this departure and I don’t quite like it. I’m nostalgic for events that haven’t happened yet. It feels like  I’m supposed reminisce as fast as I can because there are sure to be new things to lament.
There is another me waiting in that terminal full of hope and an overwhelming sense of freedom. Up until the day I got to Midway I was sure that something would prevent my escape from the turntable of a hometown I very much desired leaving. I was very surprised when I got through security, didn’t total the rental car on the way to airport and made my flight on time. I was sure fate would take the plane out of the sky as we pass the breadbasket of America. I waited for the lightning over Sacramento to take a wing. I waited for the fog to disrupt the flight landing at SFO. As we touched down I held my breath just in case we went into the bay.
We didn’t and I moved on.
I have to remember that this is an important mile stone that has little to do with me but my loss and sadness is already overwhelming. Everyone needs to runaway from home at some point.