Take Me Home, Country Road

Newark Airport:

English! Everyone here speaks English. Ahh! Only nine hours til home!

“Take me home, country road, take me home, West Virginia”

Oh, man I can’t wait to be home…

And life spirals on. I just found out that my Giants have acquired a) Shawon Dunston b) Joe Carter c) Ellis Burks. Oh boy…

Still swirling with a) The time change b) The English thing c) The fact that my ATM card doesn’t work here in Newark d) Of course the fact that I’m going home, my trip at an end and it’s raining in Texas finally and in Paris it’s sunny and humid and here I am in Newark, New Jersey, a place I’ve never been and I’ve finally figured out the Buddhist Everything is Empty notion, it all makes sense if you don’t think about it: What are atoms made of? No one knows. Where do I stop and this chair begin? At the subatomic level there is no barrier.

Later, on board the flight to SFO, somewhere over our 50 states:

Well, this is it. My last journal entry, the closing chapter on the first of hopefully many journeys for myself.

I have spread my spirit, my essence, across Western Europe, touching and affecting and intertwining with lives I never knew before, and it was a good thing.

What an experience – it feels as though home will never be the same, and in a way it won’t, even though in a couple of weeks I will have settled back in to my routine. And in a couple of months the people I have met will stop writing. And in a couple of years the memories of my trip, of first days in Paris, of love in Barca, of being piss drink rambling down Las Ramblas, of hiking in Switzerland, of sunbathing along the Rhine, of the history of Berlin, the romance of Prague, the Zen lunatic fountain dance in Munich, all of it, will begin to fade, leaving me but with a few affirmations:

Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery.

We live to love.

All is empty.

We futilely try to capture moments by taking pictures and writing in journals.

And if it is all truly empty, and we are nothing but puppets on a cosmic stage, and all life is a dream, then at least I can say that my dreams have included Europe. And at least for a few months, I told everyday monotonous life to Piss Off, and I lived and lusted and hurt and cried and laughed and above all, loved.

Yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery.