Well folks, it was a great bittersweet final week. Sweeter than it was bitter. We had a great time sitting by the pool enjoying the local brews and the company of all the people it seems so normal to love.
Through some crazy discombobulated events my final journey home is taking me through Ft. Lauderdale to Boston, before I return to the Sunshine State (flight coming in a few hours). About two hours ago many of us (though maybe not even half of the Squad) got off a flight in the Boston airport. Angi’s parents surprised us with a picture cake (a photo of the Squad in Kiev in sugar) and some sparkling grape juice. A few of us took the liberty of manning the ceremonial final clearing of the baggage carousel.
Once I had my things I was reminded that “goodbyes” aren’t really my thing. I said the minimal, read absolutely necessary, goodbyes and slipped out the door to find the Delta terminal. I walked away thinking maybe it would’ve been nice to say goodbye to more people, but rationalized the fear with plenty of my usual excuses. I told myself I felt a little more comfortable by myself in the moment.
Then I found my terminal and realized how much of a lie that was. There were only about three people in the long corridor, the airport was asleep and I could hear my Chaco’s squeaking on the linoleum floor. The squeak echoed to mock my fear of intimacy.
I realized I needed to use the restroom. Then I remembered I had about 70 pounds of luggage on my back and front and no group of 48 (or even just seven) to dump it with. I walked into the bathroom and let out a little chuckle as I read the sign that told me to keep all my bags in sight and redefined “multi-tasking” in my head.
I discovered not long ago the tension between a fear of intimacy and the dread of loneliness. No doubt this will be a developing understanding. I’ll be sure to keep you posted. Maybe not when it’s 3:30AM in the airport and I’m only not sleeping because I’m entering perhaps the scariest phase of life to date.
Blessings to all.
