Stray wisps of clouds drift between a layer of white and the bright blue sky. Sun glints off the jet plane’s wing. The loud hum of the engine and the view out the window leave me to my thoughts. This is the last leg of the trip home. I feel old…worn…disconnected. The night before was sleepless-the fruits of my labor left to rot. If I could have, I would have laughed. Instead, I drank.
I know time will heal my bruised and broken ego. Until then, I’ll ruminate on what should have happened, flip flop between relief and failure, and try to believe that what did happen is as it should be.
