She is round and fluid in a long floral skirt and a salmon-colored short-sleeve shirt. She drinks coffee, her gaze flits over the room. Her lips are thin but sweet, smiling when anyone speaks.
She talks about far off places. Places I’ve never been. Places I’ve seen pictures of, but never smelled. Something intimate, more tangible, when you can smell where you’re at.
For a moment, I wish I was her. Imagine me, boarding the plane, finding my seat, preferably next to the window. Traveling the great distance for a grand new experience.
Maybe I’d find a nugget of truth I can’t find here. Then I wonder, is my completeness dependent on where I reside? I ponder this, as my eyes follow her sips and the trail of her flowing skirt.
Soon the feeling passes, my wish to be somewhere other than where I’m at. I am comfortably and lovingly tethered to my life here, in these mountains. Though a vacation may be in order, not an untethering just a supplementary outing.
Prudent and sound, I could set up a savings account just for getting over there, wherever, whenever, to maybe or not to find a nugget of me buried in foreign dirt.
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