Travel to faraway places. Rock stars do it. Consultants do it. Even writers do it. Stuffed bags of clothes, toiletries, technology, cords, notepads and writing instruments. Farewells, airports, taxis and hotels. Long plane rides spent revising, reading, watching movies, listening to music, maybe sleeping.
Writing on an airplane is a gift. Thoughts are unplugged from scenery or television or social media. If you can find the groove, your laptop or notepad on the seat tray becomes an anchor to unclaimed time. The couple in the next two seats fade as a story develops that might never have begun in a more routine setting. There will be time to catch a nap once electronics have to be shut off.
Tonight my husband is flying to Paris and I briefly envy the nine hour flight and that suspension of normal activities. He’ll watch a movie, read the newspaper and sleep. Back on earth I ran errands, watched the Florida returns and pushed through a few paragraphs on the story begun when we flew back from Paris in November. The dog wants to go out, the phone rings, the dog wants in. I’ve lost my train of thought or maybe my thoughts are really with my husband as he flies to Paris.