holding my breath

I hope to acquire Evan tonight (my youngest son, almost 17) from an airplane from St. Louis. He’s flying on a crew pass, which is the way I get around. It’s a bit unsettling to not know his future (which flight will he be on?) but then any knowing we think we have isn’t really knowing anyway.

We actually have no idea what will happen next. And we can’t really be sure about what just happened. So we try to pretend- we tie down as many things as we can, for a sense of mooring. Really, having a ticket on an 8:00 plane is just a concept until you are actually flying on it. And even at that, it doesn’t mean you are going to get where you think you are going; that plane might go anywhere, for whatever reason. One simply hopes for the best.

Better to moor in your own center, so that the rest of the illusions remain in context.

gold wall glittering

I’m emotionally invested in him catching a plane, I admit. If he doesn’t, I must fly to St. Louis. My soul curls inward at the prospect, but Bill says, “Don’t think that way: we are too busy today to fantasize about failure.”

I’ll keep working, go see Electric Larry, and catch up with Alan Stern, in town for some Chairman-ish thing or another.

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