Thursday, November 09, 2006

The Long Trip Home

The thoughts streaked across my mind like Geogia summer lightning. It was the last leg of the flight as the valley girls in the row ahead of me continued chatting in their shrill high voices like nails on a chalkboard. In fact, their mouths never closed. Typically I would just block out the noise; but the high pitched, exaggerated enunciation and condescending tone always strikes me deeper than others.

The metallic bird pushed off as my wife reminded me that we almost missed the flight. Her head already buried in Soduku as her pencil struglged to make sense of the puzzle before her. The man opposite me doing the same...burried in Soduku. I am a creative. A native Applean (macintosh), we tend to be Circulars (we sense energies and don't operate necessarily in straight lines). I have very little use for numbers not associated with my wallet. The Linears (numbers people) seem to love this puzzle game. I began sketching and cloud observation, always hoping I might notice some UFO in the distance or closer.

It had been a great week with my sweetie. It was good helping her with the Reading Teachers. We spent time with her friend of many years who resides in Salt Lake City. I am always amazed at the way families intergrate visitors into their busy schedules. Of course, they were most gracious. I was thrilled to get to know her husband, Keith, a military man most of his days and to see their son, Zack again. Zack has major artistic talent and I would even venture to say some theatre in his future too.

I remembered the $100 bill laying on the floor of the airport tram between the woman's shoes. I assumed it was a $20 at first; unable to conceive how someone would so easily lose track of their money. She was so shocked that I had pointed it out to her, her hanging mouth was the only thanks I received as I exited at my gate. I wondered if it had really been hers; I figured God would sort it out. I did the right thing; however, I like coming home with more than I left. I "encourage" my Mrs. to always be aware of her surroundings. In the immortal words of Kenny Rodgers, "You never count your money when your sitting at the table..." Discretion prevents victims. I nodded my way back to Nashville.

Isn't it odd in a crowded plane with a captive audience that most would prefer to just be alone. Isn't it odd that our opportunities to meet new people is preoccupied by the ones we already know? Evenmoreso; we prefer the comfort of the devils we know. Maybe it is not that odd; just normal. We tend to want what we don't have; not have what we want. You can't always get what you want; but if you try real hard, you just might get what you need. Home again, home again, jig a dee jig.


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