Kevin BayComment

06 * 06 * 2017

Kevin BayComment
06 * 06 * 2017

Flight with EM to Detroit.

Rushing to his house to pack the gear in the a.m., ran into FL at 3rd and 9th. Skipped into the street to give her a hug. She was on her bike waiting on the red light. Her father . . . We embraced, said gentle words, then I crossed to the other side, then stood there awkwardly waiting on the same red light, occasionally glancing her way, she glancing back. Bit of a breeze, drips of rain—I just let it hit my hair and face, umbrella in hand but not extended. Kicked the dirt at the curbcut. Then the light changed. I stepped forward onto zebra stripes,FL pushed forward on her bike. She looked back and waved goodbye and smiled.

Perfect feelings throw off the crutch of words and just let themselves be felt.

Ate a plain arepa at the airport. Flew into the clouds, then above them. Somewhere over Lake Erie they were behind me, the sky cleared up, and we touched down in Detroit.

In the airport I became a child staring in amazement at a fountain. EM took a video. Then it was off to work at the Westin.