The Long Road Home

I had to leave the beach and my hammock of waves slightly earlier than the Mystic to get ready for my journey back home. Showered, packed, good-byes exchanged, and the car loaded, we were off to the Gay Dolphin for some last-minute gifts and souvenirs.

I found nothing on those shelves for myself that could do honor to the memory of this unforgettable experience. Instead, I was grateful to find meaningful (or at least useful) gifts for my baybas and those who made my trip possible by shouldering some of my homestead responsibilities. We ate some classic American food at a place attached to a huge arcade. Oh, had I the time, I would have loved to play some air hockey or a racing game. Next time!

Like I said earlier, even though we just had three days straight of Soul Talk, I still wanted more as the Mystic dropped me at the curb. What was I going to do without her reassuring me that “I probably wouldn’t die”?! And all the other sage advice she delivered, not to mention the good times experiencing Myrtle Beach? Ah well, she will be back, sharing the remaining experiences of her own Soul Journey, and just like always, we’ll pick up where we left off…or where we are now.

I was glad to arrive ridiculously early for my 8pm flight, as I hadn’t been assigned a seat at booking. I didn’t know until in the plane that the angel at the gate had assigned me a seat with the most legroom I have ever seen on a commercial flight. Yeah, even more than that ONE time I got to fly first class. My seat for my connecting flight to Minneapolis, MN was not as stellar, but of course, the Universe took care of me in other ways.

After nearly two weeks straight of very little sleep, I think I was nearing delirium. I woke toward the end of my longer flight, just in time to let my window-seat-locked chair mate out to use the restroom. I got the distinct feeling he didn’t want to wake me, as he was up and in the aisle before I knew what happened. When he returned, he, a young college student who had just been visiting her sister in Costa Rica, and I spent some time chit-chatting about our travels and life.

I am glad we did, as I think it became apparent to them that I was not “all there”, and this middle-aged gent took me under his wing and guided me to the baggage carousel at midnight in Terminal 1. My car was parked in Terminal 2, where my original airline flies out of, so he gently asked if I knew where I was going, to which I absentmindedly replied, “I’ll just follow the signs”. So, we followed them together until it was time for him to make his departure into the open air.

“Now, Shirley, just keep following the signs for the tram, and then the train,” he advised, earnestly. I don’t remember if he had a worried look, but it felt that way. I was not worried at all. I am an adept traveler, and even in the desolation the midnight hour brought to the airport, I was sure I’d be fine. And I was until the train, where I sat inside and waited for it to move for what seemed like far too long. I got out and looked around, finding the schedule that said it would leave in five minutes, destination, Terminal 2. Feeling all sorts of reassured, I leisurely walked back toward the train. But, I picked up the pace and so did my heart when I saw a man bolt into the train as though the doors were closing!

“Are we almost late?!” I asked as I sat down, relieved to be back in time. He explained he missed this train during another midnight-hour experience here and it had ended badly. I don’t remember what we spoke about, but he too wondered if I knew where I was going, now in Terminal 2. When the doors opened, he walked with me to the elevator, made sure I knew which floor I was going to, and then went on his way into the parking garage. 

"Orange, MP, Orange, MP, Orange, MP," I kept repeating to myself, silently. The elevator doors opened, and there sat my trusty Subaru in the MP section of the Orange parking level at Terminal 2. Arrived!

And that's all anyone can ask for...at midnight on a Wednesday in Terminal 2.

If you haven't already, please check out my friend's Myrtle Beach experience for her take on this co-creation of a trip!

My Dark Night of the Soul Journey here at That's All I'm Asking For...was necessary to reach where I am today. While I am still working through the residue of a lifetime of beliefs and behaviors that no longer serve me, I am so grateful to be the most authentic version of myself I have ever known. If you're curious, please join me as I continue this adventure of me. It has been a journey worth taking, for sure!