Saturday, July 31, 2010

airports induce writing.


Molly Hatchet Band – in white Reeboks – who are they?
Middle of the terminal is a mosaic in shades of blue tile, and everyone stops right in the middle to look around…moving or trying, dodging wheels and legs and small heads that dart about at knee height. Older woman almost knocked over in the bathroom by someone with suitcase. We are all just running around.

Once again in an airport and naturally inspired to write – but it has been awhile and it feels good.

The man with the ugly cardigan tied around his tiny waist and his LV bag doesn’t realize there is a line behind him and takes his time. He also doesn’t seem to notice the haze or 85+ degree weather.

Book stores smell familiar and I love it but none appeal. My protein yogurt smoothie hits the spot and the baby next to me is smiling up a storm.

My mind races from what happened since Monday – suddenly I’m headed to Denver and meanwhile my heads wraps itself around kindergarten – 4 years olds who don’t know up from down and left from right but by the time they leave me, will know the basics of reading and math skills not to mention they will have acquired a level of responsibility, personality, and independence. Yikes.

First class is seated….time to pack up and scope out my seat mates, yet again. Converse? Possibly. Get lost in my book? Likely. Write? Probably not where wandering eyes might judge my interest in musing. Later perhaps.