After six hours worth of cancellations and delays and waiting for new boarding passes, my flight home took off just a few moments ago (though I won’t post this until tomorrow). It was a long day, a tiring day–but then, in a moment of magic, liftoff was pure joy–like liftoffs were for me when I first began flying, before I understood that liftoffs and landings were the most dangerous part of any flight. I watched the northeastern city lights glittering below me, and quietly hoped that I could carry this feeling and this metaphor with me through the still-new year.
I’m on my way back from Kindling Words. It’s always a delight and a privilege to get to start the writing year in the company of others who are passionate about words and working to find ways to build their lives around them. I never have much to post about Kindling Words here, because it isn’t so much a conference as one long conversation, but it’s a conversation I treasure.
ETA, from the ground: And that first breath of desert air upon leaving the airport is still magic. The northeast is lovely, but it’s good to be home, too.