It's the ritual and the dance

Going on a trip is a test of skill. It's a dance. And most of all, a ritual. At least, for me it is.

This time the ritual was a little different, but only by a little. This time, my Mother didn't run through all the things I would need to make sure I had everything. It was all up to me. I had to triple-check myself: no help.

The ritual of the things for me is this: For the week before, I put things I find around my room and house that I think I might need. Not clothes mind you, but all the other things. It sits there in a pile in my room until the night before. Because, of course, the ritual must happen the night before I take off. I sit in the living room -it has more room- with everything surrounding me. Clothes in various piles, books, school things, etc., etc. I look at my bag, look at my things, put in a good show or movie, and begin the ritual packing. Usually it takes only one time, but sometimes the ritual was not completed correctly the first time and I must begin again to satisfaction. That is what happened this time.

The dance is what comes next. The dance is the time at the airport. We watch each other in this dance. Test the fludity of the movements. The more apt you are to the dance, the more fluid each motion is. You need no help with your baggage, you get it right the first time, you smile and say thank you as if this wasn't stressful, and when it comes to security you pull everything out with a sure motion. It is quick, painless. IF you are good at this dance.

I must admit, I am pretty good at the dance. I could have been better, of course, but anyone can. I need little help; I've learned each step long ago.

Now...it's time to fly.