In transit

I am in transit.

trans - (Latin) across, through

it - (Latin) to go

I am going through ... states.

I’ve often used this term to describe my physical state of being in daily life. But transit in New York City was always within the bounds of my familiar neighborhoods. Midtown Manhattan to Woodside, Queens. Repeat daily. Similar to washing one’s hair--lather, rinse, and repeat if necessary--my movements were habitual and comforting. Now the neighborhoods (and states) I pass through are unfamiliar, each movement new and exciting.

Yet inwardly, I am in transit as well. Even though we've been on the road for only two days, I've been fortunate to reconnect with many friends from different times in my life. Over delicious meals and tea time with chocolate, we "go through" shared memories, delving deep into the past. Like in Dickens' A Christmas Carol, I see my life flash before my eyes--each friend guiding me through the times spent together. Remember how Mr. Marceron's fifth-grade classroom always smelled like coffee and vinegar? Remember that amazing apple-picking trip to Syracuse and the piping hot pot of potato-leek soup we guzzled at 3 am after the long car ride from the City? To really be with someone who knew you before you were you today is truly a gift, for better or for worse. Even more powerful than letters or mementos, a comrade can tease out those memories and details left at the very back and dusty sections of the mind's filing cabinet.

Traveling through space and time. "In transit” has taken on new meaning ... at least for now.