I sat, distractedly stirring my coffee as I thumbed through my Instagram feed. It was early, probably too early for coffee, and probably too early to be hungry. But I was. It was also to early to be at an airport. Another airport, or the same airport. I don’t really know at this point. Always waiting for another flight. Always going. Needing a getaway, but always away.
How does that make sense?
I had arrived the evening before from Stockholm, home by 10p, awake by 3a. This was my normal, so why did it feel so crazy? My room, or the room that a friend so kindly was letting me land at for the next couple of weeks, whenever I happened to be in town, was strewn with the suitcases, and dirty clothes that had just returned from Scandinavia along with me. It had been a good trip, fun crew, and wonderful days in one of my favorite cities. I had seen old friends, made new friends, and became better friends with a few. This was a week when I loved my job, and when away was better than staying. Besides exhaustion, getting sick, and feeling slightly unhealthy, I felt thankful for the nonstop lifestyle.
Enjoying the moments with a colleague in Copenhagen
This city has my heart- Copenhagen, Denmark
And it is nonstop, even on days off. This morning, groaning because I didn’t feel good, and because I wanted that feeling of home, I forced myself out of bed. I had to escape one of my least favorite states. This place isn’t forever I whispered to my soul. You won’t always have to drive Greta, or pack and unpack suitcases every day of your life. Someday, home will be a familiar word. I think that if I could simply forever stay in Copenhagen, and only step foot in Florida for 24-48hr at a time, that would be bliss. Or let me stay in California. That would be a slice of heaven.
My heart is home here
So, it was me and my coffee, waiting for the minutes to pass hoping I would hear my name announced over the airport terminal loudspeaker. I did, and it was a surprise. I had already written that option off as impossible. It made me re-think impossible.
Maybe my dreams are not so impossible- they constantly feel that way.
Maybe my lifestyle and relationships combined is not so impossible- saying goodbye is too familiar.
Maybe I can live somewhere- like my keys, my room, my house?