Life is funny. One minute you’re lying on the couch snuggling with your kitties, the next you’re running around the house filling your suitcase with both clean and dirty clothes because your half-joking “Take us with you!” remark to The Mr is taken seriously.
Then a few hours later, after shoving your way through the crowds of returning laborers, you’re chatting with a guy from LA about your life story and he is so happy for you to be going home.
Then you’re walking 20 miles through London Heathrow aka the hugest airport in the universe, regretting your choice to wear a dress for comfort’s sake because your thighs are sweaty and you’re developing a painful chafe between them, and it turns out that the dress made your life totally uncomfortable.
Then you sleep for 7 glorious hours and wake up to green grass and golden leaves and chilly air and even though less than 24 hours ago you were thinking it would be another several months before you felt cool air on your skin again. I love life.
So I’m sitting here in Chicago, hoarding the only outlet I found to charge my blackberry so I could write down everything that’s gone through my head over the past 24 hours or so, waiting for The Mr and my daughter who took a different (and I suspect a much less relaxing and awesome) flight, the same place I sat just 3 months ago waiting on my step mom to pick me up for summer vacation.
No one knows we’re coming. I can’t wait to see my dad’s face when we come through the door. We’re only here for a week, so there won’t be enough time for road trips and seeing everyone I want to see, but it’s a week and I couldn’t be more thankful. I needed this break. There can never be enough breaks for me.
In Riyadh, a place I was once comfortable in because it’s so easy to blend in, I get tired of feeling like one of the crowd. One of dozens of other women wherever I go dressed exactly like me. Sitting here I’m aware of how good it feels for people to be different. Different races, languages, and styles of dress. An old man walking slowly and whistling just like my grandpa used to. Individuals. It feels good.
Life is funny because not only does it take you to places you weren’t expecting or planning on going, but because it puts you in situations that force you to appreciate it.
In a way I feel like I needed this whole mess I’ve been through. I know it’s corny to say that everything happens for a reason, but I really believe it does. I have such an overwhelming sense of appreciation and gratitude for everything in my life, the good and the bad, the planned and unplanned, and I have to admit that it’s only because life had its way with me. I’ll let it do so more often.