Off & Running
a Blog of Life on the Run


I found her at an airport.
     She was standing there
               ready for our trip.
It was our first trip together.
     We had made a pact
            on New Year's Eve
                   to get our passports.
I booked a trip.
      She resisted.
               Then got excited.
A big trip across the ocean
      to a faraway land
           where the people spoke English.
No plans, just books
                        and ideas.
We traveled. Figured out the Tube.
      We laughed at silly British reality TV.
             We were friends.
We shopped on Portobello Road
         because it was in Bedknobs & Broomsticks.
                We had wine together.
                          Saw a fenced-in Stonehenge.
                                      Big Ben.
                                             Jack-the-Ripper tour at night.
We became worldly.
            The two of us together.
No phones.
       No internet.
               No family.
     No interruptions.

I had never seen her this way before.
       I had glimpses in the past.
              Pockets of time
                       of space
                              of healing.
But never at this level.
        It felt perfect.

I found the relationship I needed.
               Hoped for.
She was who I had
                         always dreamed of.
The one I knew
              without interruptions.
I knew her.
              She knew me.
     We were a team.
               We conquered the world.

I left her at the airport.
      We came back to reality.
                 Real things. Life.
      Pressures of life.
            Other relationships.
I've seen her since.
    She shows me glimpses again
         of the woman I knew.
I hope for it.      I sit.
          I wait for it.
                     I look for it.
But in my mind
        she'll always be
               the woman
                        between the airport in New York.
The woman standing
          waiting for our great trip of 2006
           and the woman I hugged goodbye
                     10 days later.
The great and powerful woman
       I saw Wicked
             and the Canterbury Tales with
                                               in London.
She hasn't spoken to me lately.
       But it's ok.

My mother is still at JFK...

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