I brought sparkles and sequins and leopard print. But the two things I forgot to pack are pen and paper.
Which was so silly. I seem to have forgotten.
The flights to and from Las Vegas are the first time in a long time I have spent time with myself. Not by myself. But WITH myself.
No children, no husband, no emails. I only realised this in the quiet. When my mind slowly, timidly, nervously, said, “hey you”.
At first it felt strange. To listen again. To take the time to notice. To watch a movie and realise my heart leaps in the country songs. To smile at Reese Witherspoon on my screen like an old friend, the face of my teenage cinematic bible. To rest my head between a pillow and my very own shoulder and remember that shape. And to hear little words again, sentences, figurings-out, questions, intrigues, rambling along in my subconscious, begging to be written. Not pushed aside and forgotten. But remembered. Given a second. Believed.
It took my until hour 6 of flight 1 for me to respond. To pull out my phone, and type this out. To tell my heart, Okay I’m here. I’m listening.