The Journey

From up here, the clouds look like ice flows. All sense of depth and distance distorted. Only pale blue stretch dotted with tufts of white that appear to float on their surface, though miles above. Ironic that a vision so cold appears in an area so tropical.

We’ve been airborne for almost five hours now. Well, not including the three and a half hours to Phoenix earlier this afternoon. I’m not sure what time zone I’m in at the moment, but from Phoenix we’re nearing nine o’clock, eleven o’clock in Milwaukee. Strange to think I’ve been up so long already and broad daylight still surrounds me.

Everything is so surreal. I’ve flown over oceans before. Over the Atlantic four times, not including the little jaunts the planes leaving Newark take before turning Westbound from New Jersey. Over the Pacific twice before. Sitting in the airports, waiting in queue I’ve discovered how much of a seasoned traveler I’ve become for as little as I feel I have traveled. Queue up, choose the self check in. Tags on bags before approaching the counter. Of course it helped to have a friend see me off…trudging behind with two suitcases in tow…one with broken wheel from a turn off the curb at the Amtrak station in Milwaukee. Boarding pass and ID in hand to the security. But first goodbye hugs. The last goodbye on this trip. Security…here see the chaos and stress. Boots off, laptop out, 1 quart size zip lock bag stuffed full of toiletries, gels, soaps, all under three ounces and fully visible. My life in two carry-ons and two checked bags. Plus the five boxes of books and assorted knick knacks mailed off earlier in the week.

I had a mere ten days off between my time at BTF and the new job. Ten days. One spent in the car to Staten Island then to Watertown. A day reprieve to sleep in and sort through the portion of my life left behind at my Dad’s house and the portion brought in tow from Stockbridge. Plus the portion rescued from kind friends in Staten Island. The accumulation of stuff. And the sad thing is, I would and will use all of the items, Books may be my downfall, but I find most of my possessions practical. I feared to see what I might have left behind in Milwaukee…a task for later in the week. Two days of ten…one on the road, another immersed in memories.

Days three and four, lost to the road. Two cars driving westward on 90. Playing leapfrog with semis, casual commuters and occasionally each other when the need for fuel or a rest stop prompted. Following faithfully until the toll plaza at Gary IN. A split to go 80 or 90. I opted for 90, stuck with it through the chaos of the Chicago construction, searching but not finding 294. Staying with the route one knows, onto 94, towards Milwaukee…towards a temporary home…towards more memories…towards the absence of dogs…towards more packing. Four days down, three in transit.

But we arrived early on the four day. Despite the separate routes my Dad and I pulled into the driveway within two minutes of each other. Casual dining in my Mother’s kitchen. Putting off the unloading of the cars. Awaiting Andrew’s arrival. Waiting. Waiting for the vibrations from two days on the road to stop. Glad for the reprieve from the days of rain.

In the morning…the first of the family goodbyes. Dad, heading back to Watertown, another two days of driving only to see his daughter off. At times I wonder what makes me deserving of such. But incredibly grateful, though I fear I don’t vocalize my appreciation enough. Too withdrawn into myself.

Day five, after the goodbyes, into the car again. To Whitewater. Running errands with Andrew. Then to Madison for quality time away. Day five in part lost to transit again, but trapped in a car with someone else. Still time spent together. Not lost.

Day six, purely bliss, relaxation, indulgent. Time with Andrew. A fabulous Thai lunch. Hours of board and card games with my sister and her friends that evening. The next morning, day seven, a farmer’s market, people watching, produce and greenery galore, and the cheese curds. How I will miss this little dairy treasure of the Midwest while in Hawaii. And gluttonous lunch with Mother, Sister, Brother in law and lover. Followed by the second round of goodbyes…first the quiet tearful hug goodbye with Andrew. Parting in separate cars, in different directions. Then goodbyes to Nichole and JM. Not to see them for another four months. Day seven ends on the road again.

Day eight and nine sneak upon me. Two days immersed in boxes, suitcases, tubs. How to condense my life for nine months in to a few mailable boxes and what the airlines would allow on the flight. Sprinkled with bouts on the couch with Black Adder playing in the background. Something to distract the melancholy brought about by finally addressing the last three years of my life. Something to keep me from thinking to hard about what I might be leaving behind. Who I might be leaving behind. Errands done, suitcases packed and a little bit of time spent with mom. Day nine ends.

Day ten. In transit again. First a train…the Amtrak down to Milwaukee. A taxi to Nicole’s apartment. Dinner at a bar restaurant in Chicago. Girl talk with Nicole and Cathy on the bed. Gossip. Catching up to say goodbye again. Cathy left around midnight. Nicole and I stayed up for about another hour or so eating Ben and Jerry’s Americone Dream.

A restless night’s sleep, and up this morning for a quick breaky of tea and toast in the morning before catching the bus and then the el. A little late perhaps, but O’Hare, unlike its ugly stepsister Newark is easier to navigate. Shorter lines. Friendlier people. Though most of the travelers are just as inept as in NJ.

And now up above. No sight of land. Only endless blue with the pattern of ripples across the surface. Occasional small white dots break up the water. Fish? Whales? Not boats. Endless blue below stretching to endless blue above. With a slight suggestion of amber and pink. With only about 40 minutes left in the flight, I wonder when land will be visible.