How Did I Get Here?

Life in Santa Barbara was good until it wasn’t.

 

I lived in the mandatory evacuation zones for the Thomas fires,

 

and the “Debris flow” (mudslide).

And my Tom died here.
Too much for me. Not because I can’t take it but because I don’t have to.

Time to fly.

Downsize. Donate and sell stuff. Why pay for a large storage unit to house insignificant items? Rent a small unit for sentimental goods.

My plan of no plan, is to get on a plane to any destination that has the most standby seats available, preferably abroad.

I land in London and after asking, no, begging the Universe for help (I’m into that now), feel guided to keep stepping to the Aer Lingus ticket counter.
The middle-aged, pixie-cut lady working the counter asks for my ticket.
“I don’t have one. Any suggestions?”
Intrigued, she prompts me, “What are you in the mood fer?”
“Somewhere pretty with no natural disasters.”
A truly pregnant pause. “Cork,” she said. “West Cork, Kinsale.”

 

Kinsale

 

 

And basically, that is how I got here.

Thank you, Universe.

 

 

 

 

 

 

8 comments.

Comments are closed.