My brother and I spent a lot of time at their house during the summer - we would go down for a few weeks at a time and spent a lot of time with our cousin who was right between us in age. Basically, every morning, we would sit around watching cartoons and Nana would come in the room to first of all, tell us to get out of bed....and when that failed, she would make us cinnamon swirl toast. I can still smell it to this day. It smells like my childhood.
I think back on it fondly now, even though at the time, I was most likely being called 'silly' by my brother and cousins. Silly was my nickname and I HATED it. I was the youngest and I was the only girl so therefore, I was the target for teasing. With a temper like mine, it was not hard whatsoever to get me angry and frustrated. Stupid boys.
Regardless, I miss those mornings and am happy that my nose can still pick up on those familiar scents and provide a small break in my stressful reality.
My time here at the airport really could not have gone any faster and slower at the same time. The days went by fast but the month went by slowly. And then, here I was, 30 days later at my last staff meeting preparing to say goodbye to everyone. But before I get into that, here's how I spent my time at the airport.
Racing airplanes
Chasing airplanesAs I finally got on to my plane - 5 hours and three beers later, I thought I would be ecstatic to get home. I felt a slight pull to turn around and head to south beach…really, I did. As soon as I got on the plane, I opened my window shade. Looking down on the tarmac, I realized that just last week I had been driving around in a car with someone and I got to walk around and look up into the wheel well of the same size plane I was not sitting in. I got to flash my SIDA badge and pretend like I actually mattered. I got discount at the airport shops and I felt like I belonged in the airport instead of just being a passenger. These fleeting experiences seem to go by in an instant and I’m afraid I never feel their impact until I leave. I look out my window at the expanse of the airport, remember walking from end of the airport to the other, freezing in the air conditioning, wishing I was home, and now missing the routine that I inadvertently began.
I have always been wary of bittersweet moments. I have never truly given them enough credit. For as much as I was certain that I was ready to leave Miami at the drop of a hat, the moment came and I found myself wanting to resist. Perhaps it happened too quickly and that’s exactly when that moment hits me and I can only dwell on the opportunities on which I may have missed out.
Let’s face it – I was alone in a new city and I was forced to be there for 30 days. I worked for 20 of them – therefore, 20 of my days were filled up with things to do. Nighttime is a completely different story though. I work during the day and what do I do at night? Workout….eat dinner, watch tv or a movie, read my book, write in my journal. After about a week, that routine gets old pretty fast.
I love to be alone, but when I am forced to be alone by circumstance, it’s a whole new ballgame. Alright, I guess I could have gone out and made new friends and gone to bars and met new people. But I’m sorry, that’s just not me. I am the girl who decides to go out for a quick drink and dinner on a Friday night and end up walking in circles around a shopping center for 15 minutes before deciding on a place that seems the least intimidating. Walk by one restaurant – but it’s too loud and there are too many people already there, turn around. Walk across the street to another restaurant I’ve been to, again, the bar is already too full – I would feel too awkward walking into that situation. So yes, when it comes to making new friends in a strange town, it is not as easy as it may seem.
The one bonus out of all of this is that I have come to the conclusion that I honestly do suffer from social anxiety to the extent that my heart rate accelerates and I start shaking, but that I can put on one hell of a facade.
Just to show you that it's not always sunny in Miami....normal view out my window. 
Today's view out the window. Hello rain, wind and no visibility.
See...it's not all sunshine and rainbows and kisses and unicorns. (Because all of those things make people happy, right? Right?)
In all reality though, I love a good thunderstorm. Nevermind the fact that I used to avoid them at all costs, hide under the covers and feel my stomach drop and the first hint of thunder in the distance. To cure one's fear of a storm....
1) Demonstrate to your family that you are scared out of your wits of wind, rain, thunder, lightning and any combination of the above
2) Take many trips with said family to a desert lake where storms roll in every afternoon
3) Get used to the constant ridicule but stay safely inside when a storm rolls around
4) "Oh don't worry, Lucy...those black clouds across the lake...they'll go righttt by us" I think not.
5) During said storm (although preferably not at the height of it) go with your mom and sit on top of the houseboat.
6) Don't sit by the metal pole that will attract lightning.
7) Sit, observe, watch, feel the wind on your cheeks, see the clouds roll by and change colors - black to grey to white
8) After all the chaos, realize that you are still okay and the sun always comes out again
Once you have cured your fear of storms....don't go driving too fast during a massive rainstorm, hydroplane and crash....that'll bring on a whole new fear water on the street.
Went for a little jog one evening - took a breather for some shots...this is on the little bridge that goes over to Key Biscayne.
