Reading and sitting finally becomes a guiltless pleasure. Well actually it becomes pleasurable period. While alone, I have no loved one's or loved things to dote upon. I have no sorting or prioritizing. Here I sit in the airport at a table by the window. It overlooks cement and steel just warming from a newly risen sun. In the company of myself and a book, I can choose only to listen to my thoughts, to write down my feelings or to escape into the story. How simple. The book has my full attention for once and I sense it is grateful.
9am before departure
I feel the first sparks of excitement, like butterflies rising from my core. They are subtle at first, as if just awakening from their cocoon and slowly stretching their new wings. Butterflies-like the feeling when you just start to fall for someone and you realize there is a chance they might be falling for you; a chance something really good is coming. This is how I feel.
Chicago airport (connecting flight)
I am in love with accents and I haven't even left the states. I love these east coast men speaking like they are right out of a detective show.
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