This place was huge! The windows curved as if nature was pushing inwards on this large space! This is the main terminal at Seattle-Tacoma International Aiport. Not quite as big or unique as Denver's Jeppeson Terminal, but the windows were enough to get my attention and share them.
Airports are airports. I've always loved them for being the hubs of people's best and worst emotions. Today, however, everyone just looks tired, and I'm bored. I wish I had enough foresight and money to find a friend to explore Seattle with. No matter, I will sit here and enjoy my quiet time. Four and a half hours to Ketchikan.
Today, I'm leaving Denver for Alaska, and it's a big deal for me. I'm trekking into the unknown, and because of that, I'll be blogging more and more often. It'll be my only real connection to the familiar. I leave for Seattle here in half an hour or so, and then, onward to Ketchikan. The reality hasn't coompletely sunk in yet, but I'm going to guess that my perception of life in general is so surreal already that this whole experience is just another logical step, just another bend in the river of my life.
Tonight, I took a break from Day 2 of StarFest to come up to Fort Collins and spend an evening with my good friend Joe, my college roommate, nerd-equal, fellow Trekkie, biggest-hearted guy I know.... anyway, I'm sitting with his lovely wife, Bonnie, and watching him assault his drumset. They've played Weezer and Radiohead so far, and I haven't been disappointed. They're a good band, and it reinforces the idea that a little time away from the grind for some good music and a cold beer makes all the difference when you're stressed or tired or hurt.
Today I got off work and met up with my buddy Bob before cruising down to the annual Denver sci-fi convention. I snapped this quick shot of "Ecto 1A", a souped up Dodge Magnum. Pretty sweet.
So many things plant themselves on the horizon of our journeys through life. We find ourselves contently travelling, blissfully unaware of the new, scary, and exciting prospects hidden in plain view just around the corner. Then, in the blink of an eye, life takes away the canyon wall or lifts the fog or let's us crest the hill, unveiling the new adventures and letting us determine the best way to undertake them.
In the past two months, I've been friends with people who have had a total of four babies, lost a grandmother, lost a job, quit a job, lost a friend, and all the while, I've been blessed with those same friends in my life, enriching me and standing by me as the demons and hardships of the past rise up to greet the opportunities of the future.
I've heard a quote that, at some point, life stops giving us things and starts taking them away. Yet, as recent events unfold and continue to do so, I think it's more accurate to say that life continually gives and takes.
Malcolm, one of the four babies, represents to me that give and take. On the one side, he's a symbol for youthful and innocent hope and aspiration, the determination to fight and live and pursue all of the good things in life. On the other hand, he triggers memories of the things I've lost in life, the dreams that I had lumped into parts of my life that suddenly and inexpicably vanished and left me with no choice but to honor that there is a bigger world than any of us can fathom.
Every day we're given opportunities for a new life. We must choose to make the best of these opportunities, for the window of change can close well before we know it was open, and all we're left with is a view of what could have been.
