Mr. California was complaining about being away from his kids and home. I get it.
I was just tired of the complaining.
I am, as I type this, supposed to be in downtown Edmonton, in a cocktail dress and heels, celebrating a friend’s 31st Birthday. This was supposed to be her 31 on 31 extravaganza.
I am sitting at the Vancouver airport, with an empty water bottle, a brown apple and my computer, building a powerpoint and waiting for my boarding call.
It’s been a good week. Don’t get me wrong. I’ve done some good stuff and I’ve had a good time, and I’m glad I was in Victoria. It was warmer there for one thing.
But, tonight, a university friend is turning 31. And I was supposed to be there to celebrate. And I’m sitting in a departure lounge. And it sucks. Sucks rocks. One of my oldest friends and I sent her a note that said “I’m sorry. Next week for coffee?”
There’s a tension in travel. You have to go somewhere to get things done. It’s just as long as you are there, you aren’t here, and here is where the people who love you are. And you are there to pay the bills for here, and the there work matters because it’s part of you.
So, anyway, Mr. California. You ain’t the only one who misses home. You aren’t the only one who wishes there and here could be a bit geographically closer.