the trip home.

miles: 0 :cry:

i woke before day break, despite my room not having an outside window. sleep didn’t come easily. i felt like i was suffocating. the air was too still. i had to turn on the ceiling fan, which then made me all stuffy.

packed my stuff up except my fuel, batteries, lighters, and knife. kirsten is going to mail them to me. i ate the last avocado i bought in hiawassee and we left for the airport. we tried to stop at starbucks, but it was closed.

arrived at the airport and had an awkward good bye because we couldn’t hug one another. walked to the united desk and fifteen seconds later was checked in and on the way to security. apparently dulles was the only flight from ashville.

security had no people waiting in line, yet the ribbons were up as if it was the day before christmas eve. back and forth i walked to traverse the gauntlet until i got to the id checker.

as happens literally every time i was “randomly” selected to have my bag searched. (it’s not random if it’s every time.) as usual, the TSA agent was an ape, pawing at my stuff, and rudely refused any verbal help to get into things. (i learned long ago not to help physically when i almost ended up in a TSA office standing watch an agent damage my bag.) between security and the minuscule seats on airplanes this is why i never fly anywhere anymore. i used to be a platinum member on almost every airline. i’ve used up every mile and closed all my accounts. if it was up to me i’d never give another airline a dime ever again.

my first flight to dulles there were three, maybe four people. we took off and immediately i saw views out of the window of the mountains i was departing.

a quick flight to dulles where i had to wait for the flight to bradley. during that time i was subject to many times more people than i ever saw on the trail. one woman flopped down in a chair behind me and came into full contact with me. she was wearing a face mask, and did not understand when i immediately got up and moved. if i get COVID, it’s almost certain to be because of my trip through the airport.

i watched a woman janitor spray and wipe everything in the terminal she could. she worked efficiently and tirelessly, with an almost zen-like expression of calm on her face. it occurred to me that the poor people of the world are still working tirelessly and at personal risk while the rest of us continue to ignore them and insist that if they just tried harder they wouldn’t be poor.

it makes me so mad that we’ve been having this debate over whether socialized healthcare should be adopted, and the second we’re actually all in the same predicament, the government approves bailout measures for COVID testing costs and sends everyone a check, as if prior to this everyone in need was a freeloader undeserving, and suddenly overnight we’re all in this together. i don’t think there will ever be a better time for janitors and grocery store workers to go on strike for better pay and universal healthcare. there also wouldn’t be a worse time, and we can only thank these folks for continuing to show up. i can only hope that this will bring about the systemic change we need to actually support our citizens— all of them, not just those at the top who don’t need it.

i boarded the plane to bradley, it was about a third full. shortly after takeoff snacks were handed out. (i thought you had to pay extra for snacks in the nickel-and-dime you era of air travel.) then however, abomination.

i was gone nine days, and when i return thin oreos are a thing? i cannot even. for shame.

depression set in.

my flight landed and maggie was waiting at curbside. apparently they didn’t even care if you parked anymore because there were no other vehicles. the drive home was somber. i watched the bright colors of spring succumb to the browns and greys of winter. my emotions followed a similar trajectory as i returned to a place that looked but didn’t feel like home.

they say home is where the heart is. my heart is still free in the mountains, though my body is forced here under house arrest.