Our bodies like glass

We have been feeling a little fragile these last couple of days. This lifestyle of movement, of carrying the weight of our lives on our backs, is beginning to take its inevitable toll. I should be falling on my knees in thankfulness that it has eluded us in its fierce entirity until now. For me, it cascaded over my body like bullets or a phantom wind two days ago in the train station Milan. All of a sudden, I felt as if my feet could not take me another step, and every shard of my bodily self seemed as if it might shatter to the dirt-streaked ground. My already large eyes widened with the sheen of tears, and with all that was in me, I wanted to give up. For twenty seconds, I considered it; toyed with the idea like a piece of forbidden fruit; tasted it and tried it on for size. A dingy corner of the station, offering cold cement and a snaking rancid smell, seemed like a logical place to curl up agaist my loathed, now-haggard belongings, and pretend I was a little girl again, in my flower-petaled bedroom, or at least a fox in its den or a hobbit in its hovel. I wavered at the edges of decision...do I break in half, or even into quarters or miniscule tatters here and now, in this dank station, and by doing so, in part break the two extraordinary women at my side...or do I breathe deeply, clutch my heart back into its cavity and press onwards, upwards, forwards. In the end, it was not even a choice. I collected my seeping emotions up off the ground and willed my feet to tread again. In the span of those suspended minutes, I learned at least five. hundred. thousand. intricacies and volumes about myself, and about resiliance in the face of apparent hopelessness. Coming out of a following 12+ hours of precious, dreamless sleep, clarity was somewhat restored, and morale pieced back together. All carries a veiled freshness now...at the very least, I am fresher in myself, and better able to take on the push and pull/come and go of what continues to blossom into our path.
Last night, to name a singular experience...last night was 1000% comprised of tossing and turning. Milan to Barcelona, a la night train, was an ominous challenge. In the disarray that is now my tote bag, I could only extract a solitary earplug in the darkness, so sleep was fitfull and laced with the grating sounds of shudder-worthy snoring. BLEGH. The 14, etc. hr. stretch of (seeming) death was livened further by a French police raid of our train somewhere between the gaping distance of Milan and Barce. A man sleeping a mere few seats away from us was plucked from his slumber, and dragged off the train for reasons my shoddy Italian barred me from understanding. It was un peu mental, and in the throes of my Gravol-induced state of dreaminess, felt like a sliver out of a film or a cutting-ege fairy tale. Strange, oui?
Barcelona's streets have, so far, embraced us with eager arms. Ladybirds and I are feeling relaxed already here. We spent our post-train afternoon slash evening revelling in steaming showers, wandering beneath palm trees, curling up to feast our screen-hungry eyes on mindless movies, and sipping tea and budget red wine. As food has been scarce today, I apologize if my words are senseless...bear in mind, they are empty-stomached and wine-induced.
It is a wonder to think that I will be back in my own sweet apartment in one week less a day...I intend to hug all the clothing in my closet for at least three hours, my roommate for a minimum of four, and fall into sleep for three-five days straight.
I am dying to see you all. Traveling has been a God-send, but at the end of the end of the end of the day, there is, after all, no place like home. And I cannot quite believe that I just quoted 'The Wizard of Oz' in black-and-white, but I am sticking by my words. Snow-laden prairies, I am coming. Palm trees and gleaming sunlight are all very lovely in and of themselves, but I am aching for the naked trees and grayed skies of home right now.
Wednesday, December 5th, 8:34 pm...Northwest Airlines, Minneapolis to Winnipeg--if anybody is interested in an airport reunion. I, for one, shall be there with one fazillion bells on.
Adios pour le moment.
Be happy.
Love life.
See you in a flash.
R.B.