I am in midair somewhere between Saskatchewan and Manitoba and putting quite a bit of effort into getting my breathing back to normal. The boys and I boarded a flight to London and further on to Budapest. Exciting, yes, but the rattling of the plane claws at my enjoyment like a crazed cat. Up down then shake. Repeat until most passengers are white faced and wide eyes. The plane and my food tray are dancing. Nope, not good. Seat belt sign on. Seat belt sign off. The ding that announces the on/off sign switch almost makes a tune.
This would not my first choice location-wise, if I were to choose. The grass is mowed to perfection, the playground equipment is too complicated for its own good and there is an army of picnic tables looking like square monochromatic grazing cows minus the horns. Truth is, I find man-made open spaces like this intimidating and that’s a sin in itself as it limits my enjoyment. But I have at least half an hour to kill with the boys so there.
“The road of life twists and turns and no two directions are ever the same. Yet our lessons come from the journey, not the destination.”
Don Williams, Jr. (American Novelist and Poet, b.1968)