in houston airport, while i’m drinking an unnamed “medium roast” cup of airport coffee and listening to other people’s conversations, i’m flicking through websites with recipes, drooling over salty chocolate cookies, cassoulets, browsing travel sites, worrying too much about work.
i’m on my way home after a short trip to central america, and it’s nuts, but i’ll tell you anyways that i’m headed back to guatemala 36 hours after i get home. in 72 hours i’m at this very same airport again. but before i leave, i need to re-center, re-pack and do my job: taste coffee. i’m half-way planning an impromptu camping trip in california next weekend, but it seems far away, distant, like another world.
in two weeks i’ll be in east africa again. i don’t know when i’m supposed to breathe, let alone when those mentioned cookies will be made, but if i get a strike of super-powers it should be this weekend. truth is, if i can even eat a bowl of muesli and listen to the news before i’m off again, i’ll feel accomplished and satisfied for no reason at all. but home is golden.
