Leaving on a Jet Plane
There are bloggers in the lobby 29 stories beneath me. They are wearing pajamas, boas or bags on their heads. They are exhausted and sober and loud and drunk. They are hugging out their goodbyes.
Meeting people you have known for years but never met in person is an interesting experience. Some are exactly how you thought they would be while others are what you hoped they wouldn't. Some are a little of both.
Good. Bad. Facts. Life.
The majority of the weekend was filled with fun and laughter and the knotted pangs of homesick in my stomach. Knotted pangs covered in layers of whiskey.
I am exhausted and sober. I am loud and drunk. I have danced away the night and watched the sun rise from a hotel window.
I have made friendships from friends and thrust the virtual into reality.
There are bloggers in the hallway. They are stretching the moment to its thinnest point. They are not ready to walk away.
But I am. I am in my room. I am tired and lonely and I miss my family. There is an unopened bottle of whiskey on the table. It will have to stay that way.