two snails

And so we’re off. At a turtle’s crawl. I submitted my final finals, I cleaned, I packed, I googled driving routes for tomorrow and then I looked at the clock. An hour to go with nothing left on the list. This is so unlike me!

I wait.

Ed shows up with his backpack – the same old sack he lugs through the Rockies, through New York City – the one size fits all bag that must be as old as he is.

We have found a way to use public transportation to get to the Madison airport, but it takes time. Our bus meanders almost grudgingly. A poky, Sunday bus. Letting out passengers, one, two at a time, until, nearly empty, it arrives at the north hub, where it then waits lackadaisically until the hour seems right to head out again.






And now we are at the airport. Going through the rituals of travel. Hand over bag, show pass, take out everything, take off a lot, pass through, find gate, sit down.


This is how the day lolls along. Swaying to the music of a quiet little song.

I’m in Detroit now, waiting (five hours! Oh the beauty of finding the best fares!) for our late flight out, enjoying the graciousness of the Delta folks who have decided to open up their lounge today for us (I’d been barred for several years now; nothing personal they say, just my uncool preference for a frequent flyer program with an outlier airline; what can I say, they reward me faster over there!). Feet up, book next to me, crackers and cookies on a plate nearby.

Leisure. Two weeks ago that word was so foreign to me! Let me repeat it, because it sounds so strange and beautiful – leisure. A brief interlude of time, before it disappears again.