How do you amuse yourself in an airport?
I found myself making an extra stop yesterday, and I thought about how we try to plan ahead for the day we are expecting to have, only to be diverted by reality.
In the airport I saw a couple with six children, and another on the way. The mother looked, not surprisingly, tired. They boarded the same plane I did, and it was a plane full of children even without theirs. We flew east and north-east, and I was enjoying watching an episode of Studio 60 on my iPod (my first foray into this particular diversion), when I heard the chime that signaled a message from the cockpit.
As best I could hear, the ice on a window had not responded to de-icing, and the weather conditions in City By the Sea were not suitable for this particular plane to land. On this little plane with 50 seats, with somewhere in the neighborhood of two dozen children, there was no frustration at the news, only relief that the problem had been discovered.
At Beantown Airport, we waited to hear whether we would move to another plane or find ourselves on a bus on New Year’s Eve. The children, some of them, began to decompensate a bit, until their parents took them to the Dunkin’ Donuts stand near the gate where we settled for the interim period.
My iPod out of batteries, I took up my knitting again, a sock for #1 Son, the second sock.
The night before I stood on the little hot tub deck at St. Casserole’s, looking up at the stars. I thought how often I strive to occupy myself, to divert myself, instead of simply being where I am.
I’m not one for making a list of New Year’s resolutions, although I sometimes hold an intention for the coming year. This year I plan to continue my change of life, and today I started again, getting out to exercise, tracking the food I am eating. It felt good to leave it alone for ten days, and it feels good to take it back up again. But in some ways that is all diversionary, too, in the sense that it keeps my mind busy and perhaps allows it to be closed.
This year, I hope to find more time to simply be where I am, to listen to what is around me, to let my hands be, at least for short periods, idle, and my heart open to what comes next.