three thoughts on the day that occurred to me on the bus
* * * * *
airports are a little wonderful. and yet tragic.
i always wonder who all the people are and where they are going. i wonder if i would want to be their friends or if they would want to be friends with me. i wonder if i will run into anyone i know. it doesn't matter if it is the smallest airport in a country or space where i know no one; i still wonder. there's so much hustle and bustle in airports. and excitement as people head off to somewhere fun or warm or to see loved ones. and then there's the people there to pick up loved ones; meeting someone you love tons who you haven't seen in yonks. that's pretty exciting too.
and yet juxtaposed with all the happiness and anticipation and excitement are those other feelings- the sadness. airports are full of sadness and stress. stress about the unknown, the waiting, the long flights with boring movies, the anticipation of who your seat neighbour might be and what potential boring conversation they may engage you in. the sadness of saying goodbye to the familiar- the geography, the comforts of home and the love of loved ones. and then there's the loved ones saying goodbye to those they love- and the happiness and excitement held for people you love about to start their own adventure against the sadness that you can't adventure with them and the knowledge that they are no longer geographically close.
yes, airports are wonderful and yet tragic.
* * * * * * * *
i like saying goodbye at the last possible moment. you know, maximizing my time or perhaps delaying the inevitable. either way- half voluntarily walking away down the longest possible hallway and fighting the urge to turn around for one last glance, one last final wave is pure torture. because that last glance, wave, smile would turn into a dramatic run back for one last hug. and more tears. so i keep walking because this isn't about me and my sadness, it's about you and excitement.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
and finally,
i think there must be some mandatory rule that all older women get perms. i can't wait until that birthday when some official of something comes up and informs me that i am now at the age where i am legally bound to start perming my hair. i reckon by that time it will be white and coarser and might hold the curls. and obviously by that time i'll also be obligated to wear a plastic showercap like accessory so i will cease looking like such a drowned rat in the rain. because with the perm- i will not want to look like a drowned poodle.
airports are a little wonderful. and yet tragic.
i always wonder who all the people are and where they are going. i wonder if i would want to be their friends or if they would want to be friends with me. i wonder if i will run into anyone i know. it doesn't matter if it is the smallest airport in a country or space where i know no one; i still wonder. there's so much hustle and bustle in airports. and excitement as people head off to somewhere fun or warm or to see loved ones. and then there's the people there to pick up loved ones; meeting someone you love tons who you haven't seen in yonks. that's pretty exciting too.
and yet juxtaposed with all the happiness and anticipation and excitement are those other feelings- the sadness. airports are full of sadness and stress. stress about the unknown, the waiting, the long flights with boring movies, the anticipation of who your seat neighbour might be and what potential boring conversation they may engage you in. the sadness of saying goodbye to the familiar- the geography, the comforts of home and the love of loved ones. and then there's the loved ones saying goodbye to those they love- and the happiness and excitement held for people you love about to start their own adventure against the sadness that you can't adventure with them and the knowledge that they are no longer geographically close.
yes, airports are wonderful and yet tragic.
* * * * * * * *
i like saying goodbye at the last possible moment. you know, maximizing my time or perhaps delaying the inevitable. either way- half voluntarily walking away down the longest possible hallway and fighting the urge to turn around for one last glance, one last final wave is pure torture. because that last glance, wave, smile would turn into a dramatic run back for one last hug. and more tears. so i keep walking because this isn't about me and my sadness, it's about you and excitement.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
and finally,
i think there must be some mandatory rule that all older women get perms. i can't wait until that birthday when some official of something comes up and informs me that i am now at the age where i am legally bound to start perming my hair. i reckon by that time it will be white and coarser and might hold the curls. and obviously by that time i'll also be obligated to wear a plastic showercap like accessory so i will cease looking like such a drowned rat in the rain. because with the perm- i will not want to look like a drowned poodle.