I prop my backpack upright in the seat across from me as if the shoulder straps might firm up like a spine, sprout a neck, and stretch up to eye level where we’ll discuss the weather and people watch.
I’m not unhappy to be here alone — sitting, writing, watching. I used to hate the thought of eating by myself. But this year, I’ve embraced it. On lunch breaks and lonely nights when cereal must suffice.
Next to me, a flight to Tokyo has just boarded. They sit still on the runway, the royal blue painted wing peaking out above the walkway. The plane is massive because, really, who wants to travel halfway across the world on a cramped little jet? Not me.
The airport is oddly settled for the busiest travel day of the year. I can hear myself chew. The man next to me wipes his mouth with a napkin. A woman walks by on her cell, wearing a jacket adorned with fake animal fur, speaking something other than English. She makes a u-turn right after my table.
This is not a post about being thankful. But I want you to know that I am.
Because this is a post about me, being here, on my own, on thanksgiving, trying to get home. It’s the post about what comes before the good (the bad), what comes before the reunion (displacement), and what comes before the epiphany (confusion).
You have to lose yourself before you can be found. And this year has been filled with wandering in the dark.
The girl next to me is, I can tell, revolted by my simultaneous crunching and typing. I have orange dust from my sun chips on my hands and am trying desperately not to pollute my keyboard.
I should wait until I’m done.
But I’m never done. With writing. With observing. With capturing.
I can’t control when the time to write just sparks – which is precisely why I brought my laptop with me today.
Like the airport, I’m better off quiet. Better off here alone at the table, so I can think and listen to myself.
I’m thankful for everyone in my life but I’m also thankful that, every once in a while, they leave me alone. They let me be; they give me a break. And I’m as grateful that they’re there when I need them that they AREN’T there when I need them. Because it makes me grow and challenges me and teaches me to fend for myself. And I need that. Sometimes I need to just chin up and keep on plugging on a shitty day. If there’s something I’ve learned to live without in the past year, it’s sympathy. Because, damn, you aren’t going to get a lot in this world, huh? I’ve learned to embrace discomfort and uneasiness and displacement. Which is odd, for someone who perceives herself as utterly reliant on others. Maybe I’m changing. Like any season, I too can adapt out of necessity. I can withstand the cold and learn to keep warm–all on my own.
*
Note: most of this was written last Wednesday, November 24th, while waiting for my flight home to board. I made it back that afternoon, where I was surrounded by family and friends for five whole days.
Tags: thanksgiving, Travel, Writing
