Every day, all day, I end up with these random thoughts. I will think of something kitschy while I’m doing dishes or talking on the phone tom y mother. But, I don’t write them down. I don’t speak into a tape recorder, and I don’t make notes on my computer. Sometimes it’s like all these gems (what I deem to be gems) just flit away if I don’t capture them soon enough.
As I sit on the plane, surrounded by the hum of the engine and the chill of the window, I can’t help but notice the person in front of me repeatedly adjusting their seat, each movement a grating assault on my laptop screen. The journey back to Portland, high above the clouds, prompts reflections on the comforts of home and the complexities of travel.