The silver medalist always looks a little sad, doesn’t she. This is a song about coming close, both watching the world go by and being in it. Having the ticket in hand, and not getting on the plane. Or getting on. The story goes: wanting to be alone & wanting / The easy loneliness of travelers… I will choose free-wheeling, broken-spoked and spooked, all waltzing mathildas and all-aboard cries. My only advice is not to go away. Or, go away. Mostly it is arrivals; I can say now I’ve walked through an airport one morning with a deep sense of deja vu but couldn’t place my having been until I remembered in the taxi my heart had been broken there once, that I’d wept as only the broken-hearted do without a sense of being anywhere and so had forgotten. What’s almost is endless — that’s the joy of it, chickadees. Be grateful for the chance to get lost: reminder to self; how to teach is to make enough mistakes to know what you’re talking about. Watch closely: see how my hands never leave my fingers? Go broke and gold. Get worn and whipped. Otherwise you’ll never know what you’re missing, which is both much and nothing special, but also, go see it. I miss the kids I used to teach ( hi kids! ) ; lately I’ve been asked what I like most about spending time with children, and the answer is — their Everything, which is to say Wonder, which it is death to lose. Be incurably restless, chickadees, be curious enough to be uncomfortable. The only way to learn is to forever be asking, What else? What if? Why not? Once, the little white slip in a fortune cookie whispered Suppose you could get what you want…. – ellipsis included – and at the time I thought, What a lousy fortune, but now, well….