This morning I knew for certain fall had arrived. On my way to breakfast at nine, the bank’s ATM had no line, the streets were nearly empty and the diner had plenty of open booths. My friend and I even sat and chatted, something we could never do in summer. Back then a line of people stood waiting outside so we never took time just to sit and drink coffee, but the people have gone home and the lines have disappeared.
The day is another glorious fall day with a warm sun; it’s not even cold enough to be sweatshirt weather. Even the nights have been warm: in the high 50’s so my bedroom window is still open, and I’ve left the screen on the front door. It’s a day to sit on the deck with a good book and a lazy attitude.
On my way to breakfast I went by the high school where I used to work. I only gave it a passing glance. Though I spent thirty-three years working there, the nine years of retirement have distanced me. I have a sense of nostalgia as I am also a graduate, but that’s it. I am not at all curious as to how it fares. I have moved elsewhere.
My friends have either already traveled or are packing their bags to leave. I am envious. This is the year of staying home for me, and I don’t like it all that much. Looking forward to a trip is one of the pleasures of life. The anticipation builds, and the days are counted down until the big day: the day to leave. I even have a sense of longing for the smell of the jet when I board. During the flight, I check the progress of the plane and count the hours until it touches-down. I love walking out of the airport and smelling air filled with a sense of the place where I’ve landed. Hearing other languages lets me know I am far from home, but I am delighted in the unfamiliar. I roam the streets without purpose and often happen upon a spot to explore or a restaurant with an aroma that draws me to a table. Sometimes it is a shop window which catches my attention. Sometimes it is simply the wandering down one street or another.
I so love to travel and miss it when I don’t.
