The leaves have mostly fallen from the trees. The hangers-on are starting to look a little forlorn–like desperate girls still at the bar for last call, vibrating with an embarrassing hope that it is hard to look at. In deference to their humility, have spent the last week focusing on the ground and at the drifts of golden splendor there, but the weekday drudgery of joggers and commuters has taken a toll there, too and I find myself with nothing fun to look at. . . . so I think that I’ll go away.

This morning, I grabbed a flight south. If I can’t keep the sun in my pocket, I’ll chase it for a while, I think. I’ve packed a bathing suit, two shirts, and a pair of running shoes. My sad little carry-on was more than half empty, so I threw in a hat and a cotton dress then a bag of food. I’m hoping that where I’m ending up doesn’t have a customs department that would take away a lady’s Honeycrisp Apples.

I’m writing to you from the first leg of my flight–a commuter jet full of business travelers in crisp striped shirts and navy suit jackets with garish brass buttons. My giddy demeanor is as dead a giveaway as my PEZ t-shirt and camo tennies that I am up to no good and even less business, that’s for sure. If you’ve travelled with me, you know that I positively quiver with joy. It is right at the surface every second threatening to overflow on the floor. It is interesting to see the change in the serious travellers’ demeanors when I let it shine on them. It’s like they are embarking on an adventure with me. I almost convinced the elderly gentleman next to me on the plane that an island was a much better priority than a business meeting in Philadelphia–I never promised to be a good influence.

The sun is shining through the into the plane and beckoning me like a window tapping Peter Pan. . . . “Come on, Pam! Let’s fly away on an adventure.” Like the proverbial Pa in his cap, I can always be counted on for tearing open the shutters and throwing up the sash. . . dash away. . . dash away. . .fall. 🙂