this morning #1870.

this morning, i don’t know what all the fuss was about. what reason if any he had for rushing around like we were up against the clock. my frantic little man-child. as i tried to remind him whenever he sped past me, we had plenty of time. my bags were packed. his were too. had been since last night. it was like he was trying to get himself into the chaos mindset necessary to navigate the airport. ease into the experience. if that’s what he needs to do to make it through to our destination, i guess i’ll allow it. it’s all about the destination, not the journey. by this time tomorrow, i’ll be lounging by the pool. cocktail in one hand. book in the other. shaded just enough under an umbrella. fully free of stuff like this morning’s fuss.