I never thought I could be so ecstatic to have a flight get cancelled. Tuesday this past week, I was hanging out in Western NC (aka WNC), finally recovered from a cold caught during a week with extended family. I had made the best of getting sick fully embracing the chance to rest and so had my friends who still chose to hang out with me Saturday and Sunday when my parents dropped my congested self off at the tiny home village I was staying in before they headed back down to Florida. By Tuesday, I was feeling more like myself just in time to leave my glorious, modern tiny home and say goodbye to morning greetings from my pal’s dog, Nori. Each morning, Nori would get released from her tiny home doorstep and sprint to me from across the yard. As the days went on, it quickly became silly that I had wondered at all beforehand about how much she’d remember me.
WNC is special — it’s where I spent my youth going for one precious week most summers to see my favorite cousins and it’s where I chose to go hang with one of my closest and oldest friends (and Nori’s owner) for 6 months after leaving Salt Lake City where I had hunkered down for most of the pandemic. I thawed out amidst the small breweries, pub food, slow hikes, long talks, and misty mornings. I also became a live wire living out here with the start of my 4-8 hour panic attacks/moments beginning here in the lead up and aftermath of meeting my half siblings. Three years later, it wasn’t lost on me that the same life event that kicked off a debilitating anxiety pattern is also the same event where I had the chance to meet a brother who died only weeks ago. My “why” back then for going to the wedding that more than a few encouraged me not to go to has only held increasingly firm.
There’s a magic in the days in WNC. The kind of magic that only comes when it’s unplanned and stumbled into. These empty days that we get to fill are so precious and I felt so lucky to have folks to fill them with. Tuesday was no different. I had hoped to watch the Olympic semifinals for women’s soccer and the stars aligned to make that dream come true in an empty backroom at a local brewery where a crew of us gathered to be obnoxious. As I fell deeper into the excitement of the game, I barely noticed the incoming texts from American Airlines delaying my flight over and over. Suddenly, instead of being able to only watch one semifinal, I was able to watch half of the second one too…and then the full second match. It wasn’t until the glory of the games subsided that I realized I needed to call American Airlines to sort out what on earth I was going to do. My heart full and a back up plan in mind thanks to my pal being willing to drive me to the Charlotte airport, I called.
This year has been incredibly difficult in all sorts of shocking and unexpected ways. To get to experience shocking and unexpected joy reminded me how life can surprise us in all directions if we let it. How grateful I am to have traveled enough to know it would all be okay and to instead be able to be present enough to sit in the beauty of a delay, of extra time.
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