Being there

The one-way boarding pass in my hand is getting tattered around the edges. I do this - inadvertently, nervously - agitate paper items with my fingers: napkins, coasters, beer bottle labels. Better put it back into my pocket or they won't let me on the plane.

The last twenty-four hours are a blur, I can barely feel myself sitting here.....let alone think; headphones around my neck, iPod silent. If the clouds in my head weren't so thick I might wonder if last night's interchange really occured. Did you really say that? Is it true?

Stop. My thoughts are long shards, a broken mirror. No point in trying to piece everything together right now. At least wait until we're face-to-face. Be still, and wait.....I've looked up at the flight info seven times.

7719. On time. Still.

After a bleary-eyed eternity in the U.S. Airways terminal, I'm walking through the jetway. For the first time since yesterday an unforced grin smears across my face as I shake my head slowly. Delirious, I recall the last words.

"I'll be there tomorrow."