In transit

It is really hard to say goodbye. It's hard to say goodbye to friends. It's harder to say goodbye to brothers and fathers and boyfriends. It's even harder to say goodbye to grandmas and sisters and mothers. It's especially hard to say goodbye to a little baby who doesn't even know what goodbye means and won't even remember you the next time you see her.

But here I am. I'm in London, waiting to board my plane to Prague. I'm in that weird place where my body thinks it's the middle of the night but here it's 8:30 in the morning. It's been 14 hours since I left Columbus for Chicago.

As the plane took off for Chicago, I was looking out the window (thanks mom for giving those mean airline people hell so I could choose my seats) and thinking how rural land looks like a huge quilt, with patches of all different colors and textures. I'm not a quilter, but if I were I would want to make a quilt that looks like a view of farmland from the window of an airplane ascending.

I think I'm going to break down right now and buy a little luggage cart with the rest of my US dollars. They have one over in the duty free shop; it's just a little wheel thing that folds up. I love this vintage Samsonite suitcase I brought for a carry-on, but stuffed with all of my jewelry supplies and my laptop it is really heavy. I need some wheels! It's a great suitcase, though. One of the flight attendants on my flight even complimented me on it, and I'm sure she sees her share of bags! Plus it's bright orange, and this is my orange year. (Ava got me hooked on Louise Hay's Colors and Numbers book). I made an orange necklace for myself for this year. It has orange spinels and carnelian and an antique St. Christopher medal that's really cool. St. Christopher is the patron saint of travel. 

Waiting at Heathrow (see aforementioned necklace)