Thursday, April 15. 4:30 a.m. I wake up groanishly, realizing as I do that I slept a half hour longer than intended. My socks are packed, my underwear is packed, my blue and green scarf is packed, my blue and green tooth brush is packed, my converse are packed. All set. Oh yes, and Sara's pink camera that I'm borrowing for the trip is, bravely, packed.
I've been rebelliously resistant to camera-power for a long time. In general I prefer to walk through life like I'm walking through a park, a park I've walked through many times before, but one that still keeps surprising me--so I look, and look, and smile, and smile...and am not bothered by the need to point and click. But this time is different. I don't know why its different...but it is. This time I feel a strange, tingling need to record, to supplement words with images, to see all the old things my eyes have seen, and reconcile each and every one with my memories of them. Somehow in the logic of my naturally logical self (don't quote me) a camera would make all that happen. Thus I borrow and stow pink camera and walk out the door of number 125 to my sister's waiting Toyota Sienna. Speaking of which, if I were to be a mom tomorrow and buy a minivan as all moms must, I would totally buy a Toyota Sienna. Its like ultra mom power on wheels. Dads can drive them too. Ehem. Where was I? Oh, yes...
Sadly, I don't remember to pull out the pink camera until the plane is circling, swooping down on Seattle. At which point I hastily utilize the last few minutes of the flight to "record." Haven't quite got this down yet.
Okay, I admit it. I'm...obsessed with my converse. There are worse things.
On a side note (I'm a pro at side notes), it took a heck of allot of courage for Jonah to tell those sailors to throw him overboard. For a resentful, rebellious coward who ran away from God's plan for him, he had some guts. We all have our moments of glory, thank you Jesus.
Hello Seattle. I'm here.