I don’t get out much.

It has been a busy few weeks. Sometimes in my quest to record everything I get so overwhelmed by creating a proper narrative for each event that I record nothing. I’d hate to let that happen now, on the heels of a couple very busy weeks.

I’m bundled up in my over-air conditioned basement after two weeks of truly lovely weather, first in San Diego and then in Washington D.C. On my way home I had a layover in Detroit and at some point while I had my head buried in my phone, the sky exploded with some pretty intense rain. (This also happened in while I was in D.C., attempting to walk to meet friends, so I’d be lying if I said it was the first non-sunshine turn in the weather during my two weeks of travel.) I didn’t even notice until I was next in line to hurry past the rainy gap between the jet bridge and the plane.

Once I was sitting on the plane, waiting for everyone to finish boarding, the rain felt like a comforting end to the fun-but-also-kind-of-draining two weeks I’d had. The rain said, “Now it’s time to go home and hang out in sweats for a little bit and have some alone time.” Something about the fact that I had been too preoccupied with thoughts of all the work that awaited me at home to even notice it made me appreciate it all the more once I did. I took a picture of this oh-so-symbolic moment. (Or, rather, this moment in which I saw what I sought; were I of a less contended mind about it all I’m sure I would have drawn a different conclusion from the rain.)


My snarky flight-neighbor mocked me, saying that I, “must not get out much.” The aggressiveness of her tone (a weird level of rudeness to a stranger she was about to be in a confined space with for the next hour and a hafl) only made it funnier. This was the final stretch of my weeks of bouncing across the country. If ever there was a time I could least be accused of not getting out much, this was it. We all do that, though — make quick shorthand of the countless stories happening around us. I don’t know what hers is and that’s not really what this is about. This is, as always, mine. Or a piece of it, anyway.

I try to record as much as I can and yet so much life accumulates and somehow it stops feeling possible to give all these things the space that they deserve. My brother graduated from college. My own college roommate is now married. I’m heading up to Wisconsin today to watch my niece graduate. There are a thousand things that I want to say to all of these people I love so much about how happy I am for them right now. I also cleared a bit of a personal hurdle of my own, finally submitting, defending, and passing my thesis after far too many extensions.

Big things are happening. That’s life. A year ago today I was in a not-so-good place, so I appreciate the absurdity of this blogger problem I am currently experiencing. I appreciate how fully not a problem it is that I find myself overwhelmed by having too much life to capture it all.

Still, it would feel incomplete if I didn’t also take the time to stop, breathe, and acknowledge it. There are some time management lessons here, some ways that I can be better about reflecting as I go.

There’s also just something to be said for taking a second to look outside the window at a rainy airport and marveling at the state of things. Five years from now I might not end up with all those lengthy posts to look back on like I’d prefer, but at least I have evidence that I understood the goodness of this moment while I was in it.

p.s. This other fun thing happened: the lovely lesliefoundhergrail invited me to participate in her One Time project. To say I am flattered to be in such great company would be a colossal understatement. My reaction was a bit more flaily. I’m sure you can picture it.