And before lift-off, I thought of how much I love Olia, remembering my move back to NY: the smell of fall, South 4th & Driggs, our steps and stoop, Monsieur Papillon's little yelps and the sound of his jangling little bell as he scampered gayly about on our hardwood floors; then last night at Rosh Hashana dinner, bringing in the new year with wine, prayer, and friends, holding the phone to Olia's ear as she spoke with my dad, smiling ear to ear.
Then I thought of [omitted] and the way it felt to go to the beach and drum that night with her. How shy she had been, and how beautiful. I thought of seeing her last time I was in Chicago, and that I really wished she'd be in town this time around. I thought of the fact that I will truly love her forever.
I just had this flood-like rush of images, each so detailed that they became more than only memories and feelings: it was as if I was brought to that time-space and my whole being was led through it, a passive observer to my life- only feeling...
I am flying over clouds, tired but excited, and happy.