As I kiss the Manly Man goodbye once again, gather my bags, and make my way to security, I can’t help but think that this time is different.
“You’re cute! Don’t get me in trouble!” Flirts the older black TSA officer as he checks my passport. An auspicious beginning to my next chapter.
I’m off again. Yesterday I moved the last of my worldly possessions from I place I have considered home for fifteen years. I tucked them, lovingly, into a stark white cubicle, to wait until I’m ready for them once again. All that remains with me is a small black carry-on and a black leather purse. I even park my little blue car at a friend’s.
“I’ll be back in mid-May,” I say, trying to convince myself as I hand over the key. Return to what? I don’t have a place to live; I don’t have a job. I have friends. All over the world I have friends.