Some weeks are so lonely and some are full of love. This has been one of those, the latter. I've been on the road since Monday and haven't stopped connecting. I've been listening, talking. Every morning I wake up with more conversations to explore. I fall asleep with clarity ringing through my mind.
On Monday I took a plane from my current home to my childhood one. A guy sat next to me; he was nearly bald with a bold smile. We took one look at each other and started sharing. Planes force a sense of intimacy. The constant hum drowns out notes. To listen well, you need to lean into each other. I popped a mint in my mouth just in case. 2 hours in, he was in tears, telling me about his dad. They didn't have the best relationship. But over the years, they found healing with each other. His story made me love mine a little more.
I sat in the airport as I waited for my dad to pick me up. There was a lady at the only shop open; she was Syrian, beautiful. I don't know how she did it; she convinced me to buy 5 matching tshirts and a fur monkey too. My sisters liked the gifts though. The photo we took together was worth the airport souvenir pricing.
I drove into New York with my dad and sisters the next day. Maybe New York is the best place to visit; I rarely pay for my own meals. There are so many friends and dear ones to see, it's nice to be treated. My first meeting was exciting; a writer friend I met in real life last month and a writer friend I was meeting for the first time. I love getting to know people virtually and I love seeing people in real life. There's so much body language to absorb. Everyone's taller or shorter than I pictured. Eyes have different tones, skin has different textures. Real life proves the person.
We spoke for hours at a bar called Oscar Wilde. It's always too loud in places like that. Loud bars have similar effects as planes; you lean in to catch the words. We spoke and then walked and tried to get a picture together. The first person we asked had his hands full of computer keyboards. I held them as he chatted with a Milano accent and snapped a shot of us 3. How serendipitous; 3 writers posing with 3 keyboards.
I barely slept before I woke up again, jetlagged. I took an Uber to a coffee shop in Brooklyn. It was quiet with a sunny backyard and sunny baristas. They sold death water and pistachio cake. Do I need much more? I had a meeting there I was excited for; a friend of my soul and a beautiful human I never met before. We sat outside and they told me about their shared vision. I noticed the sirens blaring down the street; they didn't bother me. I was tuned in and dreaming; dreaming their dream.
I continued my journey today. Back to my childhood home. Afterwards, I'll make a few stops to see friends before going back to where I live now. My dad's behind the wheel and a few sisters are with us too. We fight, we talk shit, but the words never stop, the conversation flows. It's a big car and the police radar interrupts us every few minutes. I'm tired and the noises annoy me, but I'm grateful. There's nothing sweeter than conversation amidst ignored distractions.
I wouldn't believe your reports of the endless amazing conversations you have with humanity if I hadn't been on the receiving end of your conversational magic myself once or twice. It's your gift and it's wonderful to keep hearing about how you share it.
Your writing is a window into the soul. Not just your soul, but everybody’s soul. It’s absolutely lovely 💛 thank you for writing!!