In reply to a friend who writes of close quarters, I must say thank you.I sit in this office every day, typing in destinations and viewing streets through the screen. I daydream about flying and with no sleep, gifting more smiles and supportive squeezes. Most often the daydreams remain just that, and I admire (the energy, and) the ability to chase it. Then I read about the fears and the struggles, the unexpected (materialistic) needs serving as substitutions of the real love and comfort, substitutions of home, and realize they are learning a new way of living: Away from loved ones, away from everything already known. They must rely on suitcases, and each other, like a circle of skydivers with a low number of parachutes. It is a thrill.
After spending an excessive amount of hours in that tour van, on the road, I understand the words now. The ones that talk of cramped spaces and interrupted sleep. They have sent themselves to the streets to experience it all in a different way. And they do, and we do. My pillow never moves more than a few inches. His will travel the world.
It's completely chaotic, but I must say, entirely worth it. Speeding mile after mile to get home, 20 hours without much time to stretch, there was a hazy longing for the road once we unlocked the front door with our own keychain. I want to go back there.
Within the boxes of my months, certain numbers have a [city] match. Few of those have a boarding pass, and the rest are just reminders.
