The Weekend That Was, Wasn't, and Then Was To Be

I just changed my Facebook status from, “Not going home for the weekend. Fucking sad,” to “Sipping lattes under a blanket of blue sky.” That’s the difference a day makes.

Let me explain.

You see, I was supposed to be on a 2pm flight back to my hometown of Fairfield, Iowa yesterday with friends Laura Dawn, Daron Murphy and Richard Hall, aka Moby. The said flight would touch down in Cedar Rapids, Iowa at 5:25pm, where a car would then shuttle us down Highway 1 for an hour and a half until we reached the boarder of my town, where a dilapidated billboard painted to look like a movie marquee welcomes you with the words: FAIRFIELD. STARRING 10,000 PEOPLE. We would then check into our hotel and five minutes later, my mom and step-father would be knocking at my door with hugs and cups of tea, and the next morning, we would all saunter down for vegetarian breakfasts and start the David Lynch Weekend, where my entire childhood would flood back into my life for three glorious days.

That’s how the weekend was supposed to go.
It did not. Cue Donna Summer:
“She works hard for the money.”

Right now, I am sitting in Orchard 88, a lovely little coffee shop I frequent on the corner of Orchard and Broome here in NYC. I am, as I said, sipping lattes and keeping my laptop company as almost everyone I know is out of town. It may not be Fairfield, but I’m not going to lie, it’s pretty damn nice. It’s a reprieve from all things social, and my social calendar has kept me occupied for as long as I can remember. In fact, I don’t remember having this quiet a weekend since the early days when I first moved here five years ago. It’s subtly romantic to have this one-on-one date with the city.

Meanwhile, the people back home are getting their Transcendental Meditation on and though I may not be there in body, I certainly am in spirit.
Jai Guru Dev.

PS: I am incredibly touched by the video Heather Miller, who I grew up with in Iowa, sent me this morning. Again, absent in body, present in spirit. Love to all those at home.