My flight to New York got delayed. Through the magic of phone apps, I was able to quickly rebook myself on the next flight leaving an hour later, and had a ticket to boot.
On the flight I walked up to my seat to find someone sitting in it.
“Look, we want to sit together, do you mind sitting in first class?”
I surely do not-the-fuck mind.
“That’s fine. Sure.”
So I cozied down in first class, had a vodka and soda, and contemplated my weekend, my upcoming month, the things I need to do, the places I need to go. There is work, travel to another country, and a trip to Korea that I just don’t even know how I feel about yet.
There is a beautiful woman waiting to see me.
There are boys and girls I haven’t seen in too long that I will be happy to see.
There are those friends who feel like strangers to me now, but who I still think on and still miss. And there is and always be my life and loves scattered in and around Chicago.
I was already sleepy and I found myself napping on the flight to New York. My dreams were strange and full of David Bowie music, dance, with hints of clouds and a small dog.
As the plane began its decent into New York they announced we were landing back in the Big Apple. For a moment I panicked. I was dreaming of going home; why was I on a plane to New York? Was I on the wrong plane?
Was I in the wrong sky?
Was I in the wrong country?
Where was I going?
Who was I going towards?
I panicked for a moment, I felt so out of sorts, so strange, and so totally lost.
Then I started to breathe and realized that I was coming home and this was home for now, for as long as it was. I change. Life changes. The seats on the plane change, and the landing strips. The countries and the cities change, the states change. All that change taking place all the time.
I’m home. Home is wherever I am for however long I am there.