
I slept next to this contraption once at Boston Logan Airport.
All night long it went Cling! Ping! Ding! Whoosh! Whack.
It was during a holiday with my trusted traveling buddies Laura and Lisa. We were road tripping between Boston and New York during Thanksgiving Break in order to do our patriotic duty of walking the Freedom Trail and witnessing the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade all in one week.
We were sophomores in college and back then it made total logical sense to sleep in the airport instead of pay for a hotel room (since we had early morning flights).
All night long I heard the inner workings of the art installation as I tried to wrap my six-foot frame into some sort of slumber between two arm rests of the pleather airport lounge seat.
All night long it went Cling! Ping! Ding! Whoosh! Whack.

Today as I sat next to this same contraption at Logan’s Terminal E, I thought to myself — I will never do that again.
I’m discovering there’s a lot of things I would never do again. But, back then, it was exciting to spend a night in a foreign city — at the airport!
Actually, it was more than exciting, it was daring.
Everything about that trip was daring for three 19 year-old women from small agricultural towns. We rode buses and subways and planes through the great North East. We booked a (seedy) hotel room in Times Square. (I have no idea HOW we found a HOTEL ROOM back then without the INTERNET. But we did.)
We froze in arctic wind tunnels in the shadows of New York City sky scrapers as the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade floated before our very eyes. At least, that is, until we couldn’t take the bitter cold anymore and then huddled all together in the doorway of a luxury hotel under outdoor heaters.
We ran through the streets of New York laughing and giggling. With wide eyes and big hearts we tried our best to fit in.
We thought we were so sophisticated.
We laughed like school girls.
We made our way through by sensing and seeing and asking for directions.
At stop lights and intersections we instinctively followed the crowd.
“They go. We go!” We screamed to each other following native New Yorkers into the street without (GASP!) that familiar blinking walk signal.
Like I said, it was daring.
Other road trips took Laura, Lisa and I to Chicago, Seattle, Alabama and the Gulf of Mexico. With each new adventure we grew bigger as the world became smaller.
As I sat next to that same old contraption, chiming and clinking in the airport today, I was whooshed back in time to a younger, risk-taking version of myself.
It occurred to me that the journey I am on this year, during this promise, isn’t all that different from the adventures and risks I took back then.
This road trip is taking me in a different direction of course, one more inward than out. But, in a way, it is allowing me to grow bigger while the world appears to be smaller with each and every step.
And, in much the same way, I am making my way through this head/heart/body & soul road trip by sensing and seeing and asking for directions.
In the process, I have cleaned up my food act, learned to meditate, traded cookies for green smoothies, and powered through yoga.
I have discovered I shop for emotional reasons far beyond my conscious awareness.
But, more than anything, I am learning how to touch the surface of my soul and hear the voice of my mother again. Like the tip of an iceberg there is still so much more to discover.
Who would have thought not shopping could bring me so many riches?
And, that thought alone, makes the light bulb inside my head go Cling! Ping! Ding! Whoosh! Whack.
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Tags: Boston, Freedom Trail, Laura, Lisa, Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, New York, road trip, soul, Thanksgiving Break