The need for distraction

I’m at the airport unexpectedly this morning, for a reason I don’t want to have in front of me. Every time I think of why I’m flying today, my heart catches and my hands tremble and tears jump into my eyes. So I shake my head no; I need to hold it together for a little longer.

I live far away from the airport so I had 3 1/2 hours in the car this morning, mostly in the dark, much of it in the rain, all of it a study in trying to think of things other than that which is truly on my mind. So instead I thought about:

The songs on the stereo, three playlists’ worth;

A kid who recently told me his main coping mechanism is interpretative dance;

Whether or not I had to stop to pee;

The colors of the sunrise;

The people I love;

A little bug who flew into my car and wanted out again;

Staying awake;

The person doing donuts in a Corvette on a nearby road;

Tattoos.

Now that I’m here, I have strangers to distract me. Strangers with blue hair, strangers looking in my direction, strangers tapping on tablets, strangers with fanny packs, strangers having important business calls, strangers with plaid shirts and flowered backpacks and rolling black suitcases, packed to the brim.

I paid for a window seat that will hopefully give me the world to watch, the world to pull my attention elsewhere. It is already a long day, and I’m hoping for miracles.