A single desk is set mechanically in front of the window and neatly set with two glasses glowing with sterile coldness. The ice cube container, small black waste basket and battered green apple accessorize my view. A white glare separates me from the outside world.
Protected by the sheer floor to ceiling curtains and clean familiar hotel room, I can’t help but think that I could be anywhere.
From the middle seat on the airplane I blew my nose, read my book and nervously fiddled with my eyebrows. My legs became jumpy and two trips later to the bathroom I still had an hour and a half left until arrival. I thought, “ugh, is it really worth taking these long layover flights just to use the same airline so that I gain status next year?” I sat in my seat a little longer.
A glimpse out the window told me that we were in the North West. Big cratered mountains blanketed with snow, even now in mid May, reminded me how much I missed Jackson Hole. Thinking of the serenity, peace and wild beauty of the land brought me back to a time that was simple and free.
I still think about moving back. What it would be like…if I would enjoy it again. Why do I live in Boston again? Oh yes, my family and friends… would I be able to move away… away from them? What’s better? To live simply or stay near love and support?
Shuffling through the terminal I’m lugging my heavy laptop bag and hippie purse filled with magazines and books. Still lethargic from being sick I trudge to the bathroom, to the water fountain… ugh there is no water fountain… buy another water…trudge to the baggage claim… trudge to find a taxi. The Westin Seattle, please.
I don’t want to be here. Texting, facebooking, checking email.... anything to stay busy. Looking out the window, the trees look different here - they’re bigger, greener, healthier… ahh, the west. I’m so far away from Boston.
I’m waiting in line again to check in to the hotel. Yes, please, thank you, where’s the workout room? Ok, thank you. Up to my room. I feel like I’m back at the airport lounge.
Frick it, I’ll just grab my wallet and go outside to get some fresh air.
Ahh, the sunlight – something we haven’t had in Boston much this spring. I should take this in especially since it’s currently raining in Boston. I walk towards Pike’s Market – an outdoor market similar to Faneuil Hall except more artsy and natural and alive. The shops are bustling with activity and the different types of food lure me to the windows. I bought a pear that never tasted so healthy then found myself at a little outdoor café, eating and listening to a young guitarist belt out his creative ideas on life.
I didn’t want to leave.
Now I’m back in my hotel room...alone… eating my green apple and restless from the day of travel. The nagging feeling work that is yet to be done keeps me nailed in place. Alas there is nothing left to do but prepare for another day.
