Morning Page: The Red Eye
The red eye. A packed airplane, every seat sold, from San Francisco to Dallas. The aisle seat because window wasn't available, but thank god I wasn't in the middle. Being one of only a handful awake in the darkened cabin, listening to Terry Pratchett's Wee Free Men and trying to keep my blood circulating in cramped calves, awkwardly placed ankles, with tiny, neighbor-jostling exercises.
Traveling all night, with a pre-dawn arrival in drizzly Dallas. On the airport tram from terminal to terminal, surreptitiously watching the incredibly beautiful butch woman in a black leather coat and a baby blue cashmere scarf, with just a hint of eye shadow to soften the severity of her close-cropped black hair. Her bright blue eyes startling in her dark-skinned face. Thinking of JB and Dark and wishing they could see this fiercely beautiful fellow traveller, barely five foot two.
Breakfast of a biscuit with fried chicken, eaten in chairs designed to prevent the tired traveler from stretching out for a nap. Spilling half a cup of hot coffee on my new, dry-clean-only scarf. Boarding the connecting flight first, because sometimes a handicap bears hidden privilege. The warm-voiced pilot and laughing flight attendant, who understood when I told them blue was my natural color, but it took a lot of work to bring it out.
A spectacularly sunlit departure over the eastern plains of Texas, water turned to mirror-polished silver in a thousand rivers and lakes and puddles and ponds. Little air earthquakes that interrupt dozing and nearly knock over my club soda. Looking down on brown Tennessee, and seeing frozen ponds, wisps of snow.
Arrival, my parents there to greet me, waving enthusiastically from behind the glass barrier. Weary waiting for the luggage to arrive. The first sharp breath of cold Southern air. Familiar freeway, with icicles dangling down north-facing limestone walls. Home, the garden dormant, the bird feeders full.
Home. Jigsaw puzzles and coffee cake. Stories and hugs. Mom, Stepdad, Sister, Aunt, Uncle. Barbecue pork for lunch and pesto chicken for dinner. Sleeping in the same bed where a child Nezu once dreamed of flying far, far away.
Home.
Sunrise glistening on a thousand rivers and lakes and puddles and ponds in East Texas.
Traveling all night, with a pre-dawn arrival in drizzly Dallas. On the airport tram from terminal to terminal, surreptitiously watching the incredibly beautiful butch woman in a black leather coat and a baby blue cashmere scarf, with just a hint of eye shadow to soften the severity of her close-cropped black hair. Her bright blue eyes startling in her dark-skinned face. Thinking of JB and Dark and wishing they could see this fiercely beautiful fellow traveller, barely five foot two.
Breakfast of a biscuit with fried chicken, eaten in chairs designed to prevent the tired traveler from stretching out for a nap. Spilling half a cup of hot coffee on my new, dry-clean-only scarf. Boarding the connecting flight first, because sometimes a handicap bears hidden privilege. The warm-voiced pilot and laughing flight attendant, who understood when I told them blue was my natural color, but it took a lot of work to bring it out.
A spectacularly sunlit departure over the eastern plains of Texas, water turned to mirror-polished silver in a thousand rivers and lakes and puddles and ponds. Little air earthquakes that interrupt dozing and nearly knock over my club soda. Looking down on brown Tennessee, and seeing frozen ponds, wisps of snow.
Arrival, my parents there to greet me, waving enthusiastically from behind the glass barrier. Weary waiting for the luggage to arrive. The first sharp breath of cold Southern air. Familiar freeway, with icicles dangling down north-facing limestone walls. Home, the garden dormant, the bird feeders full.
Home. Jigsaw puzzles and coffee cake. Stories and hugs. Mom, Stepdad, Sister, Aunt, Uncle. Barbecue pork for lunch and pesto chicken for dinner. Sleeping in the same bed where a child Nezu once dreamed of flying far, far away.
Home.
Sunrise glistening on a thousand rivers and lakes and puddles and ponds in East Texas.