junkmail for blankets

no stopping, no waiting

so i'm finally finished flying, and boy, are my arms . . . i haven't slept much.

standing outside the luggage area at the seattle airport, a car pulls up. the driver is a woman in her mid-50's, maybe. i see her hands raise above the steering wheel--she's clapping. not in a clap-to-the-beat kind of way, but a nervous, joyful, pittering clap. i look to my right and see a man, someone she loves, i assume, approaching the car. he opens the rear passenger-side door, sticks his head in, and tells her to pop the trunk. which it does, and he begins cramming his luggage in. i look back to her and see that her hands and eyes have dropped to her lap.

instead of "the white zone is for loading and unloading only," the airport announcement voice should say, "the white zone is for loving and unloving only. when you see your beloved, drop whatever is in your hands--bags, coffee, tobacco, whatever, i don't care--and run. the traveling is over, and home is waiting for you inside the car."

a few photos from the home part of being away from home