An End.

Tonight's ride on a complementary hotel shuttle will be the end to my summer in the US of A. It was a great summer, one I'll never forget. The last two times I came to the states I left feeling a bit anxious to get back on my own, looking for excitement. But this time around I'm leaving feel as though I'm being dragged back to school by a giant calender, which threatens to punish me if I don't obey. It might have been the amount of time I spent in town this summer. I feel like staying. The weather is beautiful, family flocking to visit, friends coming home, jobs starting to pop up. In a sense I feel like I'm flying away from the action versus going to it.

T.S. Eliot once wrote: "... To make an end is to make a beginning: The end is where we start from." Tonight, for me, is the type of end the he was talking about. A closing to my summer and a fresh start to my new year.

At the moment I'm writing from a dark room at the Seattle Red Roof Inn. Two thick, musty curtains are blocking our window view of the SEATAC graveyard and airport control tower. My Dad just returned from the lobby with a watered-down mocha from the free coffee machine, sat down and smoked a couple cancer sticks, pulled the curtains shut and crashed on the bed next to mine. His flight will leave early tomorrow morning. It's ok. I'll be out soon I guess. I plan on wheeling the cart with my cardboard luggage to the front desk sometime before 11.30.