A portable life.
November 19, 2008
My frequent wandering leads to even more frequent packing. An inbox full of flight confirmations means I often find myself standing over empty suitcases wondering how to make my life fit within the confines of airline size and weight regulations, seeking to achieve the precarious balance of complacency and bare necessity.
I love flying. I revel in the hours I spend in the air. Mundane daily life behind me, and the new unexplored locale not quite within reach. There is nothing like the anticipation of heading somewhere you’ve never cried or been hurt and having a completely pure experience. It makes the packing, folding and even the 3oz liquid limitations completely worth it.
I am heading to Chicago this week. A place I have certainly laughed, cried and been before. A place I once called home. Now though, I think home is somewhere in the air, in a row near the back, on the aisle.
At least until I land. Then I’m in a place where an empty suitcase is all I need.