In less than a week we board an American Airlines flight to Dallas, Texas, and race to another gate for our long haul to Frankfurt, Germany, which is the start of this year’s major vacation. For the next days, details regarding how we leave our apartment, what goes where, and whatever other things must be tended to will be the center of my attention. Maybe my biggest goal is not to fall into the anxiety of stressing about aspects of packing and travel that should be second nature to us by now, but still, there is an undercurrent of uncertainty.
There’s a hunger to return to writing while I’m in this holding pattern, but though I’ll turn to my blog for brief moments, I am not giving in to opening my novel and getting lost in it. But I am ready to start the note-taking that will lead to sharing our experiences and impressions while in France and Germany, though they won’t be published and show up here before our return to the States in June. After getting back home, I’ll hit the ground blogging with as much intensity as I can bring to the matter. There will be a cutoff in early July when we point our car toward Santa Fe, New Mexico, for what has become an annual pilgrimage to attend the International Folk Art Market.
Maybe you see through this, I’m writing a bunch of blah, blah, blah, because I have nothing better to do and I don’t want to invest myself in distractions that risk capturing my attention. Yet, all I can think about is our upcoming trip. Well, that is until I’m at home working on chores such as yanking out the refrigerator to clean below it, same will be true for the stove, and it’s not until you are on your hands and knees with a headlamp shining from your forehead that you start to notice all the other corners that have been neglected and need a thorough cleaning. So, I bring sponge and 409 into action with knees suffering as I crawl about cleaning these hidden places, knowing that when we get home, we’ll not only be refreshed from our break with routine, but that arrival will come with the satisfaction that there is nothing required of us regarding maintenance of our humble dwelling.
In a little more than 12 hours, we’ll be leaving for the airport. Other than packing, we are ready to leave. A last-minute snafu regarding our rental car was resolved quickly, but it wasn’t without undue stress and meant I had to cancel our reservation with a company we’ve worked with before. I’m tired and looking forward to relaxing after we transfer terminals and board our flight out of Dallas, Texas, for Frankfurt, Germany.
After little more than 30 minutes in the air, we’ve reached cruising altitude. Globe, Arizona, is the last town I recognize before the 10,000 shadows of the cottony puffball clouds speckle the desert below, and I lose the landmarks more easily seen while driving over the landscape. Drinks and snacks arrive in short order.
Landing in Dallas, Texas, where we had less than an hour for transferring to our international flight, was only stressful in our minds, as anticipated hiccups never materialized. After a mere five minutes to move between terminals, our upgrade to a priority boarding group soothed some of the stress, allowing us to get on the plane while plenty of overhead storage was still available. What wasn’t pleasant was the exit seats I’d booked that turned out not to have a window. This was a horror for me as it meant I’d not be taking photos between Texas and Germany. Two hours into our flight leaving the States, dinner was served, which had the effect of weighing heavily on my writing hand and eyes, thus denying me the focus to write a word during the remaining eight hours in the air.
Meanwhile, Caroline continued finishing details on the towels she wove for friends and family, such as sewing on the “Handmade By Caroline Wise” labels. With 90 minutes remaining on our flight, breakfast is rolled out, so when we land at 9:00, we can focus on heading into Saturday, while back in Phoenix, Arizona, it’s still Friday, about 10:30 pm, typically our bedtime. Such is the disorientation of flying to other continents, a consequence I never grow accustomed to.
