Hello from Las Vegas
I floated over my pillow. Well my head was down and my eyes open. Thinking how much was going change is just a few short hours.
I awoke before my alarm on the cell phone rang, set for 5 AM. Made it to LAX by 7.15 for my 9am flight. I call this way to early. I pressed your speed dial code even knowing I would see your face, hold your hand, kiss your lips in just a few hours.
We discovered that we've woke up at the same time today, despite the time zone between us.
You sounded well rested, my sweetness.
I've never flown to Vegas nor on US Airways and never from Terminal 1. I thought of you. The 15 below snaked through the clouds in glimpses. I thought of you again. Watching with the sun shade down the desert looked as if a felt blanket had replaced the sand and rocks and laid twisted by feet, and arms, and bodies. I thought it weird, this distortion from the thick cabin windows because I'm easily distracted like that.
And I thought of how weird you are too.