I’m pinned to the back of my upright seat with my electronic devices defiantly still turned on. If the flight attendant didn’t catch me I still have mood-setting music blaring through my earbuds. The sensation of the speed and the sounds feed my anticipation for my plans in between landing and the next takeoff. I debate actually reading that book I brought or taking a nap. Nap wins – best to hit the ground properly rested.
In the morning my face will poorly conceal the minor heartbreak of starting the day by leaving you – a heartbreak which is relieved only slightly by the warmth of affection transferred from your lips to mine.
As the beauty that was built during spring deteriorates we’re given one last chance to anchor the relationships that will help us survive the snow and the dark.
My dance training taught me to surrender to the motion and collapse into whatever surface was headed straight towards me. Still, impromptu falls generally end up leaving their mark somehow.
One of my earliest vivid memories was when my final copy of the Sesame Street magazine came in the mail. Along with the magazine was a flyer depicting Big Bird as too tall for something – gently implying that I had grown too old for the magazine. I. Was. Crushed.
Last spring when I was living in Brussels I wound up listening to one song on repeat over a particularly grey, cold weekend. For the next week I felt tragically homesick. The confusing bit: I wasn’t sure if I was homesick for Sweden, where home and my boyfriend at the time was, or the U.S., the place that shaped who I am and had not been back to visit for nearly 2 years.
Only after you know the who, why, and how can you pick your online (and offline) communication platforms.
Exploring the possibility of defining ‘well read’ beyond the traditional literary sense.
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