Just as we had the first time we met thirty five years ago, we talked of intuition and prophesy, past lives and future hope. We discussed the politics of the day. We shared our appreciation for art, music and theatre. Our conversation ran amok over the geography of our lives, trying to catch up on all that transpired in the many years since we last saw each other. As always, there was not enough time.
For some reason her photograph of the water running across the airplane window made me think of ancestors. A protective web of well-wishers, a buffer of safe-keeping while hurtling through the air. Ever present. I imagined what Leonardo da Vinci would do if he were sitting in my seat. He made many, many drawings of contraptions that might someday allow humans to fly. A yearning; his mind fully immersed in the field of possibility. Stuffing ourselves in planes, we forget how much we take for granted. Leonardo, traveling in coach, would be beside himself.
We returned home a day early. A text from the airline warned of coming storms and travel disruption. It was a good decision. A few hours after we landed the snow came. On the drive home we shared stories of being stuck in airports. Our stories were populated by kind strangers. Angels who helped.
20 prepared hot soup for our return. Dogga met us at the door, bouncing with enthusiasm. Four bags of groceries arrived, a surprise welcome home gift from Jen and Brad. Supplies to get through the storm. We reviewed Kerri’s photos from the trip. We ate, sipped wine and regaled 20 with travel stories.
Later, exhausted, crawling beneath the quilts, she said, “The best part of travel is coming home”. My last thought drifting into sleep, Dogga gently snoring at our feet: “We are rich beyond all measure”.
read Kerri’s blogpost about TRAVEL
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The Direction of Intention 