At the airport I sit in the early morning sun shrouded in thin clouds that lend a milky tone to the light. I’m early for my flight. Too early. At 3 am I woke to pee and spent unknown time fretting over my packing. Oh no! I forgot to pack a hat! What if I forget when I wake up to pack the forgotten hat? And I’m sure I didn’t pack enough clothes for the weather. I should pack this or that more. But then there will be less room! I need to practice with less and keep room for souvenirs.
On and on such ridiculous thoughts disturbing my rest. A hat? For pete’s sake!
But I slept again and I woke again just seconds before the early alarm went off. A hat! Don’t forget the hat. Oh bother.
I had set the alarm extra early so that I wouldn’t run out of time and have to rush around. Yet I found that I was too sleepy to move even at my normal pace. The shirt I meant to wear on the plane turned up stained. I began to question the entire mini-wardrobe I’d packed the day before. My daughter says, “You don’t have time to change your clothes.” Sure I do. But not enough time to change AND eat breakfast. So I decide to eat at the airport and continue to fuss.
And then wait. It’s too early to leave and too late to make breakfast. I wait and think of food: scrambled eggs, bacon, toast, hashbrowns, coffee….more coffee. Bleary eyed I look at the clock and decide to leave early anyway. I’m hungry.
At the airport the crowds I’d imagined heading out for the Thanksgiving holiday are non-existent. I am the only traveler checking in at the counter. The only traveler going through security. I’m now even earlier for my flight as if time is moving backwards. Then I learn the bad news.
The restaurant won’t open until a half hour after my flight leaves.
No eggs? No toast?…….No bacon?
There is a coffee stand though, and I grab a mocha and a scone. As as I wait for the coffee to kick in I remind myself that I love to travel. Really I do. Or perhaps I love to THINK about traveling, tell stories of traveling, plan travels.
The process, however, is much messier.
I realize that this little trip to visit family in a neighboring state is not what has me all worked up. I have a trip planned four months from now to Portugal, and I keep pretending I’m starting THAT one. I’m so excited for this little trip, my heart explodes when I think of the bigger one. I’m sure that I’ll get no sleep the night before, fret over packing for days, and generally spazz out.
It’s gonna be great.