Dear Peaceful Purple Lady at the Airport,
You possess a peace within you, I can tell. It makes you glow while you float around here in a purple and white haze with a slight grin on your face, like you’re happy to be here. Glad to be here, of all places, at the airport. Among people hustling and shuffling with furrowed brows and sweat slipping down the sides of their faces. I am one of these people who can’t stand the loud voices and idiosyncrasies of all the other humans today. You have a peace which I have not got at the moment. I am deeply annoyed at the inner workings of the airport, even though I fully understand that this is what airports do. I am repulsed by all the other burdened travelers, even though I know that they’re just trying to get somewhere too. And I only barely manage not to begrudge the airline employees, even though they’re pretty kind for people who work a thankless job. I feel bad for not being able to tolerate this, because it is no one’s fault, really. But you are apparently unfazed. You stopped at my side while we were boarding, your black coat with magenta flowers brushing against my grey one, and asked, “You’re Zone Two?” I was so exhausted that I just nodded feeling like a big tired pool of blue. You grinned a little more and then left me, sensing that there was no more conversation to be had there. You were right, but I was glad to meet you anyway. Now here you are, past the worst frustration storm of baggage claim, already having magically claimed your luggage. While the creases in my forehead are beginning to look permanent, you stand there beaming gently at someone you’re talking to. Lucky person. Someday, I will float like you. But not today. Today, I just want to go home and have a nap and be done with this.
Have a great weekend, Peaceful Purple Lady.