Settled

I spoke with someone living in Lebanon today.
We talked through the static of a faulty Internet connection.
I strained to glimpse behind the yellow opaque walls that framed her desk
a feeling of the Beirut I encountered in 1973.

At the airport, only. I was ten, flying on a Pan American jet to New Delhi.
They put us in the smoking section by accident.
Yes, they used to allow smoking on flights.
We stopped in London, Frankfurt, Rome, Istanbul, and then Beirut.
Then Cairo, Karachi, and finally New Delhi.
From there, the plane was going to Bangkok, Hong Kong, Tokyo and Hawai'i,
before returning to the U.S. continent in San Francisco.

I thought I would travel like that,
and for awhile I did somewhat:
London, New Delhi, Tokyo, Hong Kong,
Bangkok, Santiago, Chile; London again.
Mexico, Costa Rica, Amsterdam, Paris, Madrid
Hawai'i, and back to India again.
Pakistan, Nepal, Mexico.
One more time in India.

And, then, it was the Year 2000, and it all stopped.

I grew up, inherited adult responsibilities.
Money dried up, work piled up.
Old relationships dried up.
New ones flowered.
Years passed.
I went to Canada once, or twice.
But nowhere else.

I wonder how people can afford to fly
when airfare to Hawai'i alone is more than the monthly mortgage.
I wonder if I will travel ever again,
outside the U.S.

I mentioned my memory of Beirut today.
The Internet crackled as the woman at the other end cackled.
"You're coming here," she said.