december 17, 2002 crosses my desk.
i sit tense in a black pleather chair at the gate for my flight to newark, layover capital of the northeast. my stomach knots a little, but i'm able to get through half of a terrifyingly convenient airport meal before my throat starts kicking in with a gag reflex.
i haven't been in an airport since chicago, and those are phone calls that don't just get forgotten ... no matter how many shots i line up at the overused bar wedged between gates 36 and 38.
still a bit hungover from last night, i sink back and let my eyes loose on the crowd. my head rolls back. i want to talk to him until i know there's no reason to be afraid.
soon after, the plane is lulling me to a cold sleep, and i only feel a tingle rising through my legs from years of bad posture and these cheaply made seats...
hours later, staring at trenton and atlantic city from a desperate holding pattern, the sky is just black, but the cities are those glaring red embers with orange and blue. christmas lights morse code something predictable along the ground. parking lots are watered down light. tiny beads of white descend down lines of darker gray.
i can't feel my toes, and sleep still lines my eyes; but i'm pretty sure these coals of life look like a deep pool of heaven from up here, smiling and winking.
a ten minute walk across the state that seems so small. they don't even know that i'm grinning for their christmas lights and wondering who they are. revelling in the moment, it's not often that i feel like god.
i must be lonely.
