"Thanks,"
I say to the taxi driver
as I hand him way too much cash
for a two mile trip.
I shoulder my pack
and head for the entrance
to the Miami Airport.
I've never even been in one before.
Where the heck do I go?
Oh, that way.
-------
The lady behind the counter
looks at me like I'm an idiot.
"I'm sorry sir,
but you can't leave
without a return ticket."
My heart sinks.
"What?"
"You have to have proof
that you will return
before we can let you
on this plane.
I can sell you a ticket
if you've got cash."
"Cash?", I ask incredulously.
"That's our policy.
ATMs are down that way," she says,
pointing back the way I came from.
"How much do I need
for an open-ended ticket?"
"Just a moment."
I look at the clock behind her.
It's already 7:30.
The plane leaves at 8:00.
Lord, please.
"$337 plus tax."
"Okay, I'll be right back."
I take off in a near sprint,
strapping on my pack
as I run.
By the time I reach the ATM,
I am gasping for breath.
I fumble for my credit card,
then insert it
and get my fingers ready on the keypad.
I'm typing my pin the instant
I see the prompt.
Amount... $400.
"What?", I scream
as the machine alerts me
that there is a $300 limit.
Enter, Enter, Enter,
grab the cash,
check the name of the bank
on this ATM,
and start down the line of ATMs
looking for one from
a different bank.
Bingo.
I get the extra $100
as fast as the machine can prompt me,
then turn around and sprint
back to the counter.
I arrive just in time
to watch the departure time
increase from 8:00 to 9:00.
Sigh...
more time to waste.
Oh well,
at least I made it.
Thank you Lord.
-------
I take a big drink of water
from my water bottle,
trying desperately to relieve
the pizza-induced heartburn
I am suffering from.
I look at my watch...
again.
Waiting seems to be
the theme of the trip
so far.
It’s as though the Lord
has decided to whittle away
my impatience,
hour by dragging hour.
Perhaps He has decided
to teach me to enjoy
the seemingly insignificant
moments of life
and to discover
that there is more peace
in being
than in doing.
So be it, then,
I accept this lesson.
I am going to Ireland
in search of a land
where the clock
is more a reminder
than a guideline;
a land where idle minutes
hold more magic
than hours of unceasing activity.
I may as well be prepared
before I arrive.
-------
There is an older woman
seated nearby,
surrounded by shopping bags
and reading intently.
Her grandmotherly stature
suggests that the bags
are full of gifts
for the children waiting
at her destination,
wherever that may be.
A young Japanese lady
sits lightly
on the edge of her seat,
her eyes dreamily unfocused
on the seat across from her.
Perhaps she’s imagining
the man who should be
seated next to her,
the man she thought
she would have found
by now,
or maybe imagining
what she will say
if he happens to appear,
as if from nowhere,
to sweep her off her feet.
I wonder how I look
to others in the crowd
who may be playing
the same game as I?
Do they see me
as a wide-eyed adventurer,
going to experience the world,
or a young fool,
running from a painful past
he’s too afraid to confront?
If I asked around,
maybe they would tell me.
Maybe they
would give me the answer
that I still haven’t found,
the answer I’m either
too blind
or too stubborn
to see in the mirror.
Maybe I’m like
the Japanese lady,
waiting for something
to fall into my lap
when it’s close enough to grasp,
if only I would reach.
I set my watch’s alarm,
pull my travel hat
down over my eyes,
and slide down
into my chair.
I may not get any sleep,
but I may as well try.