Saturday morning in the mountains, a final weekend on this part of the journey and its end worries you, this lightness requires muscle to hold on to. But you have closed books on journeys before and been able to open them again, there's no reason this should be any different, because though you are different now you are only closer to always having a ticket in your back pocket. The minutes tumble from your outstretched arms, but at the end of them, don't you see the glittering lights of Manhattan? Don't you see that tingle in your chest that says you are home?
It is only another step on your journey.
Is only another day closer
to all the places you have yet
to go.
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