It’s a travel day. My bags are packed, and I’m ready to go. It’s cold here, but colder there. As per usual, it feels as though there are a million more things I should be doing prior to departure. But history has shown it’s best to slow down. Anything undone can always be done later if at all. At this point, it’s best to check the travel documents, review bag contents, and settle down. Waiting is going to the name of the game today, and patience pays dividends.

Luckily, I have military training, and I know how to wait, to let my mind drift, to let time slip away. Today I’m at the mercy of others, big systems. We like to think we’re in control of our lives, but today is the sort of day that reminds me otherwise. I’m stepping onto the carousel and it’s spinning along at pace of its own, being spun by forces I can only imagine, and at some point, it will drop me off in a completely different state in a completely different time zone. And there I will spend the holidays.

This is the first Christmas away from home since my wife died. I didn’t decorate at all this year. It wasn’t for lack of Christmas spirit. I just didn’t see the point. I was going away. For the last several years it felt as though I was trying to recreate “our” Christmas, but this year, it feels like it’s mine. Traveling for Christmas feels like another of those corner turning moments, although I realized a while back that life is a polyhedron with lots of corners to turn, so turning a corner sometimes doesn’t mean much. But letting the focus shift to the kids seems a good plan and form of continuity that speaks to futures and days ahead and a nice way to honor the memory of the one we loved and lost.