I'm in Atlanta today. Stuck in the airport-- I'm exhausted and my eyelids are heavy from a two-day business trip. My feet hurt, but I am in my most comfortable flip flops and have found a seat in the terminal next to an outlet. I'm charging three devices, because I have a sneaking suspicion that I will be stuck on the Tarmac for a while. The weather here is temperamental, humid.
I usually love airport days. I love to fly. I love to people watch and I love to watch the planes take off and land. Today feels different. I had a successful, up eventful trip, but home seems so far away.
I love this life. It isn't what I imagined I'd be doing at 27, but it isn't so bad. Still I long for canvas and paint, or maybe scrubs and charts. What am I doing for this world? I'm really not sure. Atlanta is not any more beautiful than it was when I got here.