For the next eighteen hours this is my life. For the next eighteen hours this is my life. I train my eye to loose focus as it stares out of the three meter airport window out onto the arriving flights. My shoulders slumped; my head cocked, or rather fallen to the side I realise nothing is in focus. I am most probably only a few walls away from you but I might as well be miles away. And when the chimes of the airport wake me from my emptiness i stand up and follow the zombie herd to the passage way. No, of course not, they are not all zombies, some are quit happy: maybe they are just launching their own voyage, or going off to vacation, or reuniting with loved ones, but to me, I only see empty.For the next eighteen hours those airport chimes will be watch and I will train my ears to speak the language.
Life is a river, yes, and chapters are opened and closed as the river bends, and all of this has been pleeded to me, but to process this I have naively failed. Cant a river finally find its fill and be satisfied enough to stand still?
Why is happiness something we find in the ripples of the river and not the sand which is the foundation and what carries the river throughout its journey?
Enriched, I have absorbed so much, changed in some ways and reinforced my character in others. What makes me different from someone who has only read about Europe in books and websites: about every monument and every square and can recite to me the importance of each? Experience, thats what. The people that I have been have been unforgetable, the smiles and the giggles I will hear for all my life; the nuisances and the nuances have taught me to be patient and open; the joy, the hardships, the drinks, the debates, the adventures, braving the unknown, standing up for things that are right and things you believe in, and helping someone see something in a different light as they do the same for me. Not to mention I got to steel a pen from the Flying Pigs, and you couldnt do that by reading a book now can you !! And now thats all behind me..and now poof! and im home. Poof and im home!
1 comment:
Every true traveller is very familiar with this situation. Also with the never ending flight home, slowly moving over never ending seas and non conquerable mountains, afflicted with heavy thoughts, memories (the good and the bad ones) and plans for the future, which simply frighten you.
Like you bring a souvenir to your home country, bring a piece of your home and leave it (just as you left a footprint) in a place, which gave the the biggest inspiration on your trip and make it a part of you, a part of your home. By leaving you are not poorer, but richer for one more home.
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