Airports tell us these things.

The perfect analogy for everything...it was the microcosm that shed light on every thing that we were. I dropped her off at the airport expecting to never see her again. As she showed her boarding pass to the FAA agent, they let her through security and into the gate where she waited for her flight number to be called. To secure flight passengers, they've put up a 3-inch-thick plate glass window...there's no more running through the terminal to save your lover like in the movies. I followed the numbers to where her gate was on my side of the airport. I thought I would watch her take off as it would be the last time to see her leave my part of the world. When I reached the gate, I rounded the corner and saw her sitting with her back turned to me. I watched her wait quietly in the terminal staring out of the window, with her mind spinning on the exact same things that were spinning in mine. What went on that weekend. Where we go from here. More importantly why we'll never come back to this place. A child ran past her and dropped his toy on the ground at her feet. She bent down to pick it up and handed it to him and offered enough words to draw a smile across his face and send him on his way...what they were, I never heard. As she turned to watch him run away she caught my eye and her face lit. She walked over to the window where I was standing. She mouthed several words that were inaudible through the dividing window. I mouthed the three words I'd said over and over and over. There was a mechanically revolving door four feet away. I walked up to it with the intentions of one last embrace before she left and we had to face the impending self-introspection that was awaiting us both on her return. As I tried to walk through, a siren went off. I was thrown back by the door and an airline employee made her way to me, very indignant about what had just occurred. She pushed a series of buttons on a keypad along the wall and scolded me for my inability to comprehend signs that obviously explained to me that this was a one-way only passage. Obviosuly embarassed, I stepped back up to the window where she was laughing at the sequence of events that had just taken place. One more parting shot was thrown my way by the airline attendant who was more than annoyed that I took her from her important duties of crossword puzzles as she guarded the rotating door like a sentinal, but I didn't hear it, my eyes were fixated on what was in front of me on the other side. I put my hand up on the glass, expecting to have the same gesture offered to me from the the opposite side. With a smile on my face I looked her in the eyes and saw the hesitation. I mouthed the words again, but there was still nothing in her eyes that imparted to me that her hand would match mine on the glass. She smiled and mouthed goodbye. I took my hand off the glass and fastened my stance as my heart fell like an anvil down an elevator shaft. Just then her number was called, and she waved, walked to get her bag and waved again. I watched her hand her ticket to the flight attendant and she turned and paused for a split second to see if I was still watching. Then like it came, it went. Always able to see each other...always able to see where we wanted to get...but there was always an invisible barrier or alarm present when we were too close to getting there...never allowing passage. So we left it alone.

I will kill this off...even if it kills me.

I'm choking the life from it...it dies a slow death. I want it to hurt. I want it to hurt like it hurts me. Then I want it to burn white-hot until it's luminous and purified. I want it bottled-up and put on the shelf, with an expiration date that's post-dated put on the top. I want it displayed like an oddity in chloroform from some traveling freak-show. The people will offer ooh's and ahh's, then pass by as it has been forgotten in a moment. I want to be caught in that moment...and in the next moment, I want to remember nothing about it, forever.

Hey Alice! Whatchoo find in there???

On the other side, Alice...

What made you walk through the looking glass? What was your little analogous white rabbit that caught your attention and pulled your steps through the mirror? Was your white rabbit a treasure, or a fortune...perhaps an otherworld insight, maybe a lover, or an epiphany...or was it nothing more than an adventure that you were seeking as an escape from the mundane, the monotony, or the stark reality of your life. What did you find in there...as mirrors typically do, they reflect our supposed reality. Was everything the opposite inside? Did gravity pull you up? Was love numb instead of excessively acute? Was the sky green and the grass blue? Did you breathe in carbon dioxide and breathe out oxygen? Or was it a new reality that you couldn't have imagined? Did you know that your imagination was an intrinsic part of your reality, and that we can't EVER escape that reality?

With childlike enthusiasm, you took it all in. Hearing and deciphering...learning and casting judgement...being exposed and hiding your weakness...feeling extreme exhilaration and lowly sorrow...at times, life was very large...at others, life was very small...feeling completely in control, and conversely dealing with the fear when you had none...could you not see the parallels between Wonderland and your reality. They are all there my girl...one must look with a trained eye to see though...

There are questions with no answers on our journey. Did you find the perplexity in the Mad Hatters riddle? Did your head spin with uncertainty and catatonic despair? Or did your head seemingly fall off, like the Cheshire Cat?

"Why IS a raven like a writing desk?"

Who knows...who ever will?

I have questions as well...albeit in a stark reality...or one that is only in my perspective, reflecting from my mirror. The time is coming close to an end in radio land...new doorknobs are being unlocked and preparing for accessiblity. Is it still in the cards for me to remain in the Neon City, or do I move to the Hill Country? Do I stay in state, or leave? So many questions, so many floating answers, so many realities to sift through. Austin, Dallas, America...salesman, teacher, banker, writer, student...who knows...who ever will?

We all want to hold onto innocence. Is that the moral to the story? We'd like it to be...but it isn't. The moral to the story is that in the face of reality, we must come to the acceptance that it is impossible to hold onto innocence...it is impossible to remain childlike in our processes, but it is important to acknowledge that our reality IS what we make of it, and we must remember the illusion that imagination is separate from reality...they are one in the same.

Why did you search so long, Alice? You knew all the time what you wanted, what you were searching for...you knew all the rules to the game...and you knew all the finish lines to the race. There are details and questions with no answers that are underlined within the race, but the ultimate answer is something you carried in close proximity. You met the most interesting creatures along your way...what did they teach you?

Could it be that they taught you what you already knew?