Flying Again

I remain a globetrotter. I thought all that would be over when I settled in my own place; but I still get "itchy feet" at least once a year, it seems. Lately I've satisfied myself with short hops to nearby islands.

Perhaps there's a deep-seated need to get beyond my familiar horizons, as much as I love it here. One reason for this is the strength of my online community, which I've mentioned often here and which, no doubt, you all enjoy for yourselves. Kindred spirits? I've only ever met a few face to face. But they are out there, friendly faces popping up on chat and other places. A consensus was reached: I have to go see them.

So in less than three months I'll be on a 13-hour flight east and north. For those in our circles - the writer working outside of America - that continent is something of a dreamworld where people go about their business far from our physical spheres. I know they're real; I've done this before, and I'm not the only one.

It's hard to describe the elation at the thought of seeing my friends "live". Getting around is hard work too, of course, as I recall from last time the nights spent in buses and the days spent in airports. But it's worth it. I will be different when I get home again; sated on sights and soulmates, poorer in assets, richer on the inside.

Writing may be a solitary pursuit, especially from so far away, but I'm determined to change that. Even if just for a little while.