Shadow (dariaphoebe) wrote,

"So, this morning?", she asked. I realized I'd told her the wrong date. April instead of May. Of course, it then hit me. One month.

The previous 36 hours had been a whirlwind of activity. As I walked through airport security bothered by my identification not matching my identity, my phone told me I'd gone from expected-on-time to flight cancelled. Two more snafus followed in short order. But even as the spectre of a missed connection hung over me, I brushed off the worry and shortly boarded my replacement flight.

The music I had playing during takeoff provided as much joy as I could have in an economy airline seat, and I eventually realized the attendant in the jump seat ahead of me probably wondered what I was listening to that made me look so joyful. Why shouldn't I be, I thought. The song that was playing only reinforced it. "You gotta show the world that something good can work. And it can work for you. And you know that it will." My life should look fun to others, I thought, because it is.

The next morning, scooting along the causeway which orbited the north end of San Pablo Bay in the mid-morning light, I was alone with my thoughts and my music. I was feeling sad that I wouldn't have an opportunity to bike as I passed cyclists scattered along my route, when that song from during takeoff again came up, and again I remembered, and I smiled.

Breakfast followed. A brewery stop. More travel. Another brewery stop. More travel. An evening with friends. If the biggest problem I had at the moment was worrying what the name on my documents, my credit cards, my accounts was, well, that soon enough would all be fixed. Perhaps at the moment none of my problems was that big a deal.

Fun. Because it is.
Tags: transition, travel

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