12:17 a.m. - 2013-12-24
work party
It�s the hour I�ve spent avoiding for the past five days, dare I count them. The time I reach down into my suitcase, the one I�ve spent avoiding and pretending my room was intact without it laying in front of the bed.
All week I�ve ran past it, looking up to the ceiling on my usual race to the bathroom... I know just where to jump to avoid my package on wheels!
I knew the weather was beyond mine and my planes capabilities, but I had to fly down to you. I had to make myself scared in the ice, but I learned so much from my new mentor in that hour forty-five, more then I have in my 24 years of flying I can�t explain it now. My bird was happy, nobody has challenged her like that in the cold for so long, and she takes care of me, even when she screams and whistles at me in protest to being dove through the towering cumulus.
So when I was in Alaska the inuit supposedly had over one hundred words for snow.. not sure what the ones would be for cold, wet distorted airfoil are but in sunny California 1/4 inch rime-ice works.
Waited at the hotel for you, while you got cleaned and dolled up at home. You were beautiful as ever as you proudly stomped through the door and handed me my X-mas present. So hard restraining myself as we laid across from one another on the the bed talking about my flight.
The party was wonderful, so good to see everybody again and be able to order anything off the menu. I love your interest in trying all things new to you... you blew me away ordering the veal! But from the south and having never tasted bourbon... honey I have so much to teach you...
Festivities ended with dessert and farewell to our flying friends. It was late, you drove us back to our hotel and had to hurry back to sleep off the alcohol for the 5am wake up call. We embraced one last time, I ran my fingers through your hair and kissed your cheek inhaling you. We held hands a moment not knowing when we�d be together next.
Next morning you woke me with pictures of my plane and the rising sun.
Now I sit across my suitcase, just one thing left inside to unpack... the dress I wore when I held you last.
