Though the District still sleeps alone tonight

It was another day spent in airports. No weathers in Chicago, but there was a mechanical that resulted in over an hour’s delay and three gate changes (on the way to one of which I almost blacked out and probably would have had the man walking next to me not noticed something was up at my first wobble and steadied me until I was okay) for a flight I ended up not even being able to get on.

Finally made it out of Chicago on the second-to-last flight, landed in Vegas around 9 p.m. and promptly dissolved into tears again. I’d been wrapped in that missing and lonely feeling the entire flight back and that combined with the sudden delirious joy and relief of finally, oh finally being home– well, apparently it was too much.

And then I came home, home to my house, and the cat was missing.

This has happened once before, months ago: I was in the backyard replanting seedlings and she was out with me, and the next thing I knew, I looked up to find her gone. She’d slipped out through the gate, and I spent the next six hours alternately keeping vigil either at the window overlooking the front porch or on the balcony and running through the neighborhood streets, quietly but desperately calling for her. Six hours of making deals with God and the devil later, I found her at daybreak when I went back out on the balcony and called her, and she darted out from under a truck across the street.

It only took a half-hour this time to find her, but given the state I’ve been in these last two days, it may as well have been a lifetime. And I know it seems absurd, that so much of me could be wrapped up in a cat, but it is. I’ve just poured that much love into her for enough time that she is the heart of my heart.

All the same. I’m home, at last. I’m home and she’s home and tomorrow I start cleaning up the mess that my unanticipated absence -slash- greatly delayed return has created. I’m still listening to Owl City– "Maybe I’m Dreaming" has been keeping me company since last Thursday, and the more I listen to it, the fewer comparisons I make of it to The Postal Service (which is a good thing).

Lost in a silent ballet
I’m dreaming you’re out in the blue and I am right beside you
Awake to take in the view

Late nights and early parades
Still photos and noisy arcades
My darling, we’re both on the wing; look down and keep on singing
And we can go anywhere

It’s funny; I always expected "Give Up" to be my D.C. album, but instead, it’s turning out to be this one. But then, nothing tied to D.C. has been what I ever expected, so really, where’s the surprise? Quite.

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