Travel- Day 1

My day began unceremoniously. Mother switched on my light, which is placed right next to my head when sleeping in my lofted bed. I was abruptly awakened from a dream about mini coopers and hmong families by the glaring beams entering my skull, and simultaneously I heard the familiar voice cut through my consciousness:

“Get up. Now.”

I looked at the clock. It was 5:22am.

“Nooo!” I moaned without any particular conviction as I slowly wrestled myself out of my comfy warm nest. Rushing to pack a lunch for later and shoveling cereal in my mouth during the bumpy car ride reminded me sourly of high school.

We make it to the airport with plenty of time to spare. I was fortunate enough to see some familiar faces that were very welcome, fellow Augsburg students on their way to El Salvador. Turns out we took the same flight to Dallas.

I was faced with a 6 hour lay-over in which I refused to spend in NFW Airport, and so I inquired of the nearest woman wearing a vest laden with jovial but mandatory ‘flare’ pins where I could find some Nature (with a capital N) in this godforsaken place, in less words and more politely.

I boarded a bus for Downtown Historic Grapevine for 5$. Much like Historic Downtown Stillwater, Minnesota, the small town of Grapevine, Texas began with the exploitation of the natural resources. it was once a great prairie with buffalo 8ft tall at the shoulder (as I learned at the historical museum) Then pioneers came in the mid-1800s and used the excellent topsoil for agriculture. A noble cause if you are feeding your family, but it quickly turned to industry when cattle and cotton were introduced. Then came development, the airport, and the people. What was once biologically the healthiest and most productive soil is now covered by building or has already washed into the gulf of Mexico- never to return. I amused myself by taking pictures.

 Old friends.

 This is a metaphor.

 Koi.

 Playing with the timer.

I asked an old lady at the museum if there were any gardens around. I finally found my space complete with a variety of avian wildlife. The blue jay was camera-shy.

I stopped in at what looked to be a local dive, and told the owner I was looking for some real Southern food. I got the fried catfish, left him a fifty percent tip, and dashed for the bus stop and caught in time to board my plane to Madrid.

 

 'Walking' the dog.

With the resignation of the inevitable comes a release of resistance, a sort of acceptance paired with a broadened interest that opens a fresh world your fears previously kept you from exploring. Cast away the old and welcome the new.

I am curled up in a thin red fleece blanket that came packaged in a neat cellophane baggie, thousands of feet above the Atlantic Ocean.

Peace.