Ben is a traveler,
constantly leapfrogging time zones and oceans.
he and his family
(perhaps my favorite non-Sherwin one)
and I was thinking about him today,
wondering how he makes it,
spending so much time in airport lounges and Skype sessions,
when he's got so much at home.
but maybe that's the fuel:
food on tables and family vacations,
sharing a roof with one of the best women I've ever known
and two of the loveliest little ladies ever born.
I flew back today,
getting stuck for twelve hours at McCarran International,
watching heat waves oscillate from the tarmac
while planes came in and out and people made their way
and I saw lots of quiet men at the gates,
small eyes and big headphones
that were all they had until they made it
to their wives, husbands, girlfriends, boyfriends, children, dogs, whatever.
we landed in an empty airport;
everything but the ATMs had closed
and I shared a shuttle with a man who was on the phone with his wife
who he told he'd be home soon
I walked in to an empty apartment
(even my dog isn't here;
he's having a great time with his aunts/cousins)
but it's so quiet
and my one non-work friend moved to be closer to his family,
leaving me with the idea
that maybe he was onto something.
I guess what I'm saying
is that I just want to come home to you
and the part of me that thinks of reasons why not to
is beginning to be wholly overwhelmed
by clicking odometers and crazy ideas,
as I feel the patron saint of grand decisions
lay his hands on my head as I close my eyes,
summoning summer soft-serve
prairie dresses and family reunion practice runs
so I'll let this little light of mine shine and rage against the night.