Waiting for the start.

Arising out of the fog of the land of dreams, I heard the click of my alarm clock as the set time for my day started. Shaking off the fading memories of my misty thoughts, I struggled to get up, despite the knowing reason for the early morning alarm. I was heading back, back to the past, back to a time that I once lived and breathed every day for most of my life. I was going to Des Moines.

Rushing through my morning routine and packing the last minute items, I was very aware of the approaching minutes of my departure to San Francisco. I heard the rap of fingers on my door as I quickly hid in my closet to finish dressing. I knew the time was near. My father would be waiting downstairs ready to give me a hard time if I was a few minutes late. I take his teasing in jest because my father is known to be late at times as well.

With suitcase in hand, backpack slung over the shoulder, I went to the car. The drive over was with ease and the land that I barely set eyes on rose before me. It was not long before I saw the stretch of blue-gray that marked the south end of the bay, announcing my arrival to the fair and exciting city of San Francisco and thus bringing me to the point of transportation that will take me on the first leg of my journey.

The airport is fairly quiet for this early morning. Passengers are scattered here and there but it is not crowded or overwhelming for the moment. Security was a breeze and I flew right on through in a few minutes. I did set off the alarm because I forgot that my cell phone was in my pocket. But other than that, I was through and went to find my gate.

Now, I sit in the row of open seats by my gate. I have another hour before I can board my flight. I have still another flight to catch at the end of this one. But soon, I will be in my brother’s house, wrapped in the arms of a little boy who has captured my heart since the day he was born. I am looking forward to my Ashton-squeeze.