Flights of Reality

I’m going home for Christmas this year, and I’m staying long enough that I might be able to see some friends. It just depends on how much time I’ll actually be in Houston. There’s a chance I’ll be going to northeast Texas to spend time with my extended family, as well… nice because both sides live within a few miles of each other. There’s also a chance I’ll be driving back instead of flying, because in addition to waiting for the government to respond on my contract, I’m also getting bites in places it would be impossible to take public transit, like Baltimore and Annapolis.

If both of those places seem like long commutes, they’re not. It’s about the same as Sugar Land to downtown Houston. I don’t mind it- I listen to so many podcasts that it will be nice to catch up. It’s also inconvenient not to be able to get to the tech corridor easily. I can take the Metro to Reston, but then I usually have to walk about a mile to the actual building…. although when push comes to shove, it’s not like I don’t actually need to walk two miles a day. I do have a return flight as a backup, though. I might not find what I’m looking for in a vehicle, or the job in downtown might come through while I’m away. If I get a job in downtown, owning a car is pointless at best. The parking is so rare it is prohibitively expensive. It would be cheaper to Uber.

As always, I am over the moon to see my family and reticent about leaving DC for any reason. If only I could pick them up and move them all here. I walk around Houston like a personal graveyard, ghosts rising from my past. But, speaking of graveyards, it will be nice to “spend some time with my mom.”

Lindsay went to visit Forbes in his retirement community, and loved it so much she wants to move there with all her friends when she’s that age. She wanted me to come, too, and I got the shakes thinking about something that might not happen for at least 25 years. But who knows? Maybe I’ll eventually get tired of the winters.

I doubt it.

Going to Houston is returning to the scene of the crime. I don’t want to think about it anymore, I don’t want to think about her anymore. I just cannot even. Going to see my family for a few days is a whole different thing. There is a limited amount of time I have to muscle through, surrounded by people that love me and even like having me around. 😛 Living there returns me to my smallest self, and it is more sensory information than I can process.

When I think of the emotional abuse that happened there, and the way the cycle repeated as a result, I get sick to my stomach at my own iniquity. By now I am sure that I’ve been forgiven, but not forgotten. It’s what happens when you’re a right bastard to people who’ve only treated you with kindness. The people I’ve hurt may have moved on, but they’re certainly not willing to take the chance I’ve gotten better over time.

I would like to believe I have, but I don’t think I can be the most objective when it comes to watching me. I just keep reaching for the stars and they shine through.

I know I have stars in my eyes watching the approach into DCA. It is like nothing in the world, a flight in which history dances before your eyes…. most importantly, other people’s history and not mine.

 

 

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