I stare, lost by the sight of the deep navy water as it moves and churnes. Maybe we are the same, the ocean and I; me always moving, always churning. I think I tried to make it stop once; the movement. I wanted to, or so I thought, but I misjudged a lot of things about myself. No one makes me leave, or travel, or spend so much time on airplanes. I just do. Maybe because I have friends all over the world. Maybe because I want to be all over the world. Maybe because I…
Maybe I don’t know why I won’t stay.
And I want to, but when I have been asked, “Please don’t leave.” I quietly listened, saying little, knowing what I would do. Knowing that the airplane had a departure time that I would make, even if I didn’t make the flight.
And as much as I look forward to my blogging days now that I have other editors and contributors, I’m too tired to write. This makes me sad, because this writing, my baby blog, is my favorite kind of writing. I could do without the rest right now.
My life is one of slight overwhelm, filled with mixed emotions. Five days in Hawaii, two days in California, and now waiting to get back to Florida…this is too much. And just before that, I was in Scandinavia. This is my normal. I’m tired of this normal. Or this normal makes me tired. I was in the same timezone for almost a week, and my body thanked me for that. I found that much permanency to be a miracle in my life.
My friends, all over the country are picking up my homeless, or “location independent” slack. God, I am lucky. I know what spoiled is when I wake up to a Hawaiian sun, from the Penthouse floor of a chicly decorated apartment, grab the keys to the BMW so I can make my morning coffee run. A few days later, my reality changes, and instead, I wake up from a king size bed in my former home by the California beach, walk out the balcony to an ocean view, and tell stories to my “Second Mom” over a French Cafe breakfast. I know I am more than taken care of when I miss a 1am flight and randomly call a friend and former co-worker pathetically asking, “I am so sorry, but I am stuck. Can you please come pick me up at LAX, and can I crash on your couch?” Don’t worry about it. No problem at all was the response. Homeless, or location independence isn’t so awful with friends this rock solid. And settled. If more than anything, what this time in my life is teaching me is that friends are friends, no matter where and no matter when. And sometimes, it’s ok to need their help and their hugs.
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