Posted by: sulya | 27 July 2009

Written On the Airplane

ontheplane1My car caresses the curves of this familiar road like its their silver anniversary and they’ve treated themselves to a room at a hotel of stone and gourmet pillow mints from the heyday of the railroad.  The kind set up on hills with gargoyles and peaked towers from times when couples didn’t often get rooms like that just for one night, just to feel the familiarity of each other in an unfamiliar place.

When we hit the highway for the first time in months it’s like the night at the hotel had been the road’s idea and the car had just been going through the motions; Suddenly peppy, perky, it almost leans into the pavement ahead like I just won’t let it go fast enough and it didn’t remember it could be like this.

Won’t it be surprised, I think, when it goes from 120km/hr to sitting square on its wheels in the Park’N’Fly lot for over a week…  And it is somewhat dejected, un peu “assoupi”, when the shuttle takes me, a surly looking woman a few years younger than I am, and a seductively comfortable family of six with their dog Daisy to the terminal.

ontheplane2We all discover we are being accompanied by a grasshopper when the second youngest of the four children shivers, squeals and jumps out of her seat.  Each of these children, ranging from 17 to ten, maybe,  in a pattern of girl/boy/girl/boy, is a different kind of stunning and not for the first time in my life I am envious of parents with lots of children.  It’s not likely I will ever have that life and I’d fear for my sanity if I ever had four children under the age of six as these parents appear to have had – but once they are all walking and talking and long out of diapers and can razz each other kindly about being scared of grasshoppers – try to one-up each other with stories about the cuteness, laziness, illness of their friends’ dogs as compared to Daisy (the tale of the enormous Labradoodle who devours any shoe not put on a high shelf will stay with me always)…  Once infancy and toddlerhood and pre-school ages have been survived by all parties big and small, all I see is an abundance of energy and love, personality, connection, rejection, ideas – a flow – a cup running over and over everything it touches as it is filled and filled – A house full.  A plentiful, life-full that cannot compete against anything and lose.

ontheplane3And then I am flying to the place I was conceived and born and raised into 17 years of wide-eyed observation, self-consciousness, passion and indecisiveness – more than I have yet been able to process or understand – up through 17 years of awkward recess wardrobe changes because I thought a girl in a year ahead had looked at me funny and real change was so rare that I couldn’t move my bed form one side of the room to the other without mourning the memories of its abandoned position in my life and it’s been a lot more years, it’s been four cities, at least 16 homes on two continents and one delicous son later and the woman I am going to see is more home to me than almost any place could ever be.  I’ve said it before – that once I left this first place, “place” itself lost power and person took all, held all, held me and my self and heart into hearth and made a new definition of home.

So, she is home to me and her new baby is my family too and I hope however far away and remote I may be he – like his mother – will always know that he has a home with me too.

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Responses

  1. You had better bring back some photos of your home town for bloggin. Or else!
    Have a great trip and visit, Sulya.


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