I am attending a writer’s conference this weekend in Charlotte, NC. It is part of my learning curve in discovering how to write a book. I flew in a day early to allow myself time to get acquainted with the area as well as transition from "mommy mode" to "time away mode." Sometimes the switch between roles can cause unavoidable culture shock.
Waiting to unboard the plane, I notice everyone grasping tightly to their treasures. In a hurry, people shuffled off the aircraft holding bags and purses and briefcases containing a variety of what we believe to be needed items. We all have bags full of our work, our entertainment, our lives. Without making eye contact with those around us, we clutch tightly to our possesions careful not to lose track of our valuable things. It was a visible prompt reminding me that on Shawn’s last day he took nothing with him; no palm pilot, no watch, no shoes, no headaches, no stress, no pain, no to-do list, no regrets. At least he didn’t take anything tangible with him. Life and death transpired in a simple moment. A passing instant of time as he exited one world to enter the next. He took his faith, his hope and his love. All else was left behind. It causes me to ask, "What is really important today?"
The first thing I smelled as I got off the plane were cinnamon rolls from Cinnabon. Without thought, I have automatic recall to the last time I experienced this luring scent. The memory is locked inside my mind as if it were my home telephone number. These oven warmed sweet rolls were the first food Shawn ate when we reentered the United States after our two year term of service with the Peace Corps in Honduras, Central America. He was so enthused to eat American food again. I remember how good it felt to be home. Funny how I flew across the country to North Carolina, a foreign state to me, and felt an overwhelming sense of home.
I think this is going to be a very good trip.
