Late nights and early flights mean a few things. Yes there’s the packing but by now that’s fast, and then the jockeyed reading to get in the last few chapters of a book to pack rather than carry on; inevitable too it will be taken out just before check-in for fear of dovetailing with the weight limit a little too intimately; and then, too, that inevitable extra pound shy.
True last meals at home are a solitary endeavour. It is late at night; beds are gone to; there is the long hall to the kitchen, jet windows and specks of buoy lights. Fitting this first walk a week prior early in the morning, horizon cloud the sun diffuse.
whole wheat yeast bread, homemade, toasted
raw cacao nibs
Sleep for two hours and here I come. Its aura lingers as I travel.
And a sandwiched version in the Toronto airport.