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?

tired international flight attendant

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.

Why travel flight attendant

Enjoying the moments with a colleague in Copenhagen

Copenhagen KPH

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.

Manhattan Beach California

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?

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