I had these tickets. For our flight back to Pittsburgh. We arrived at the airport, bags packed, confirmation code ready to go and realized–they are for tomorrow. We called Matt’s Mom to pick us back up, greeted the confused dog, and headed back to base-camp.
With an extra day before heading back to college, and most of our many todos done, we opted for a day of rest.
For me, resting means organizing events with friends online, culling my inbox, and taking a moment to process this long and wonderful summer. I’ve gotten to hang out with my cousins, my grandparents, and my new husband. I’m slowly learning the sounds of his house, the rhythm of our non-digitally-mediated conversations, the feel of a dozen mornings waking up next to each other.
So I’m refilling. I’ve caught up on Suits and am working through Covert Affairs. My sister, newly formalized, is connecting with friends online and writing. My husband, still a fizzy word in my mind, is playing Egypt in Medieval Total War and giving me updates about the imams’ progress in recruiting the heretics. I’ve looked over our wedding photos, seeing smiling faces and emotional bursts I missed on what turned out to be the happiest day of my life so far.
To walk between the burning walls of my ambitions and commitments, I need a full internal supply of cool water. I’m filling myself up with quiet; this summer I’ve expanded my soul’s aquifers, but with larger reserves of calm and patience I still need to dedicate buckets of time to refilling them.
Especially if I’m going to be graceful with the TSA when I finally catch my flight tomorrow.
“I walk without flinching through the burning cathedral of the summer. My bank of wild grass is majestic and full of music. It is a fire that solitude presses against my lips.”–Violette Leduc, Mad in Pursuit