Solo Flight

Tomorrow morning I set out on my next Big Adventure. I'm going to Atlanta to visit old friends, old haunts. The car is packed, the route is planned, I'm ready to go. My ducks are much more cooperative these days. More sure of their places, perhaps.

I haven't been back to visit since we left, though I've passed the exits and felt a sense of "no way would I go THERE again." But now I feel a protective cloak of detachment, thanks to my book. I'm sure there will be something unexpected, something difficult. But I have a sense of Boldly Going, and it excites me.

This is the trip I've been putting off--the others were more about Research, places I'd never been or didn't remember. This time I'm travelling back into the recesses of my own mind. Ever since I knew this would be coming, I've imagined that my sister Janet would be with me, being my bird dog, sharing my re-experiences as we shared the ones so long ago. But today she called to say that she wouldn't be able to come after all.

I think there's a reason
I'm supposed to do this
alone.