Two hundred and eleven

“Whenever I get gloomy with the state of the world, I think about the arrivals gate at Heathrow Airport. General opinion’s starting to make out that we live in a world of hatred and greed, but I don’t see that. It seems to me that love is everywhere. Often it’s not particularly dignified or newsworthy, but it’s always there – fathers and sons, mothers and daughters, husbands and wives, boyfriends, girlfriends, old friends.” – Love Actually

photo from Wikipedia

How I love and hate airports.  It’s always the beginning and the ending of something.  The possibility for adventure is endless.  What excitement awaits me at my destination?  What if I changed my flight and instead went to Montreal or Halifax or Paris?  But then there’s the all the waiting around, sitting for long periods of time, and breathing stale, recycled air.  Sometimes I wish I was Jeannie from I Dream of Jeannie and could just blink and be somewhere else, without all the commuting time.

I’m often in airports alone and I always find myself reflecting on my life, where I’m going and where I’m coming from – in both the  immediate and larger senses.  It was hard to leave behind the beauty of the outdoors and the life on the road to come back to a city I am not too fond of right now.  What is keeping me in Toronto?  The airport makes the nomad in me is cry and plead for change.

But it also makes me so grateful that I have the opportunities that I do: that I live in a country that I can drive and camp safely across; that as a woman I can travel alone without fear; that I was brought up in a family that had both the means and the encouragement to start my love of exploration.

With all this reflecting and my long day of travel, I complete forgot about the blog, to ask someone about their first kiss, and almost didn’t remember to write (I believe this is the first time that has happened in the seven months I’ve been doing this).  I will have to include a double bill of first kiss stories tomorrow.  Stay tuned…

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