On a whim, I let myself be whisked off the strangely delayed plane in Winnipeg, abandoning Danny for a $200 travel voucher and a later flight in business class. I realized as I headed down the ramp, Air Canada crew thanking me profusely, that maybe Danny and I had a few more things to say to each other, but the promise of travel credits felt like the seed for some future trip. I am so precipitous sometimes.
Later, in business class, eating because the food is on offer even though I’m not particularly hungry, I read Aung San Suu Kyi’s Letters from Burma. They’re rather sweet, quiet essays from a quiet and fierce soul. (Apparently, in Burma, they just call her “the Lady”). Her description of her life after release from house arrest strikes me.
People ask me in what way my life has changed since I was released from house arrest eight months ago. One of the most obvious changes is that I can no longer keep up the strict timetable that governed my days when I lived alone. Then, it was important to establish a routine and to follow it strictly to avoid feckless squandering of time.
She later describes the weekends on that timetable – meditation, the small pleasures of tidying a drawer, reading over her morning tea and the holiday-like feeling of Sunday mornings: Sunday was especially luxurious because I would boil myself an egg for breakfast.
I note my own skirmish with the omelette guy in the hotel of faded glory this morning, when he dumped shrimp and crab into my vegetable omelette, my sublime irritation.
I note that I’ve just eaten a meal I wasn’t even hungry for, complete with chocolate fudge cake.
I note it.