The plane touched down at the DFW airport and I cringed. Surely I hadn't been tapping my heels together and prattling out Dorothy's mantra already? Being on a plane is surreal. The mixture of ear popping, sleep, read, think, sleep, wisps of conversation, bump-jolt-shudder, and sleep some more all sort of fade into one another like a dream, and then you're on the ground again rolling towards a destination that seemed ages away and is now a mere few footsteps from actualization. Funny thing, those planes...

Heard on the plane upon landing in Chicago: "Dad! Yay, Dad! The plane didn't crash!"

Said by the flight attendant upon leaving Cleveland: "And please do not approach me while I am in the galley. If you require assistance, I will come to you."

Thought on the plane upon landing in DC: This is without a doubt the most beautiful place I've ever seen.

For whatever reason, I took odd fascination in spying upon what books people were reading. Anywhere there was a person with a book, I tried desperately to catch a glimpse of the title. One man at the gate in DFW was reading a book that teaches Russian. Another read about Abe Lincoln, and there was an elderly woman reading a thick hardback book on James Madison. Most of the women I saw were reading small detective novels. At Dulles, there was a Walden's bookstore, and the desire to watch what people bought was intense. I had no time, of course. I spent too much time sitting at Burger King (why, oh why couldn't I find a restaurant with a bar?) and glancing across the hall to where a portable defibrillator sat. I was amused, and saddened all at the same time.

In Cleveland I drove, I visited, I laughed, I cried (more than I felt was necessary on a four day trip), and I became aware that I am much more capable as a human being than I ever before realized. I also became very in tune with my needs, my desires, and my must-haves (for lack of a decent vocabulary). Funny thing, those vacations.

There may be no place like home, but that doesn't necessarily mean home is a great place. In fact, sometimes it may be good that there's no place like home. However. Home is where the heart is.

And now there's nothing left to think but: Funny things, those homes ... or funny things, those hearts?

No comments:

Post a Comment