Monday, October 20, 2008

Back in Texas

The trip from Seattle was arduous and wearisome. Leaving BB’s house around 7:30 am we arrived in San Antonio after 11 pm. A direct flight would not have taken 13 hours, but because ours first flew to LA, to Denver and then San Antonio, it took a bit longer than a direct flight. LA was probably the worst airport I have ever been in, and if the city is anything like that jungle which is mistakenly referred to as an airport, I don’t think I ever want to visit that town. In LA we had to change airlines from United to Frontier.

Exiting the plane into terminal 6 we asked the information desk where to find Frontier Airlines, “terminal 3, and you have to take a bus.” We scrambled around the huge airport, dragging our luggage, and nearly 30 minutes later hopped on a bus to terminal 3 only to find out that the lady who gave us directions was either ignorant and too proud to ask for help or malicious, and the actual terminal we needed was 6, the terminal we came from. I was so mad, I was spitting fire, and laughing at the same time. Visions of our accidental run in, raced across my mind. Our next hoop of fire, after returning to our correct terminal was re-checking in and going through the airport security again since we were changing airlines.

Denver, the next destination was pleasant enough, until Kyle, while eating a Quizno’s sandwich, knocked a cup of delicious, mesquite flavored red sauce in between my legs. In the bathroom, the cleaning lady immediately pointed out how red and the location of the spill was especially ill-looking on a lady. After scrubbing as much as I could, using water and a shout towelette another random, yet very nice lady provided, I had gone from looking like I had a massive lady accident to looking like I peed in my pants. But what are you going to do?

Exiting the plane I felt the warm San Antonio air seeping through the air holes of the tunnel. The weather had been in the 50’s when we had left, but my piles of layers were unnecessary and uncomfortable back home. The words “back home” held a paradoxical feelingly to it. On one hand I was happy to have lots of great Mexican food at my disposal, and family and friends nearby, but on the other hand, being back home felt like a failure of sorts. We had left San Antonio back at the end of July on what was to be one of the hopefully greatest adventures of our lives, A going away party was thrown, our final goodbyes said and now we had returned, without even having had left the country. At least being in Seattle, away from familiar faces and people who knew our story, we didn’t feel so much like failures; we were still on our way, just in a holding pattern. But being back in Texas meant something else entirely; we had come back, after already leaving, and the knot in my stomach continued to grow as the feeling of failure intensified. The next morning, we met Kyle’s parents, aunt and an old family friend for breakfast at Jim’s. I was feeling overwhelmed by my sense of failure, but seeing Kyle’s parents and remembering the reason that brought us back to Texas brought all new emotions colliding with the others. It was our first time being around the family after the death of Grandma Dee Dee, and I felt loss. She had more to give, and now we were without her loving and magnanimous presence. A battle of emotions began raging inside but to multiply my battling emotions even more we were asked the questions. Questions that to most people are the most basic of questions, but to us, they are convoluted, complex and nearly impossible to answer “Where are you now? And what are you doing?’ These simple questions that demonstrate interest from the other party are difficult and painful for us to answer. Lately, I have answered those questions by saying, “We are nomads and currently we are in the business of jumping through hoops.” But that just creates more curiosity rather than quench it.

We are slowly coming to terms with being back home. It is helpful that we are near Texas State so Kyle can complete his course more quickly than in Seattle. And although the feeling of failure was overwhelming at first, it is only a feeling because we haven’t failed, we haven’t given up the dream. Our plans haven’t changed, only the path has changed, not the destination.

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