Here I am, over two thousand miles away from the only physical place that’s felt like home. I’m not naive to sight that it’s a place within, a state of untouchable and unconditional love. It can’t be walked, biked, swam, driven or flown to but it can always be reached. It always has been to me the sacred inner peace within that keeps me grounded in my very nature. Something that, with three air signs, isn’t naturally easy to do. I allow my mind to wander. Speckled floors and retro red seats surround me as nearby passengers complacently await their destined arrivals. A woman quite lost and obviously distraught is given the words she needs. Unmistakable radiance fills her warm smile as she exits with gratitude. The same warmth reaches down into my heart as my eyes catch this. We carry on down Montezuma. The time, however useless, is 6:25. We pass by the setting sun to my left, which captivates my entire being. I’m thrilled to catch the sun in these moments and share with it a peaceful journey home. My gaze is fixed and I forget in a split second who or where I am. All I know is this astounding beauty as it envelops me whole. I sit back and enjoy the ride, not knowing where or when the wheels will stop spinning. Not sure if the ones in my head ever will. I shortly fall into its trance as rainbows streak through the trees, dancing with and meeting the light behind my eyes as if for the first time. I cannot seem to look away. I’m mesmerized by orbs of all size fanning out and meshing with each full breath I pull in.
Sunday, the ride home.