My flight from San Francisco to Kansas City is delayed.Tthey said our plan is delayed from Everett because the FAA regulates the amount of planes that can arrive at SFO when there is low cloud coverage. Looking out the windows, I can’t see a thing, except gray foggy mist—so I don’t really blame the FAA. It must be hard to be a pilot in this weather.

I don’t really mind the flight being delayed at all. It’s been a stressful week at work, and I’m headed home to see my family. It’s like a pocket in time has opened up. So I just have to sit here and write poetry and read and wait on the plane. There’s nothing I can do about it. My boss knows I’m taking off work tomorrow already anyway. And my sister’s graduation isn’t until the evening tomorrow night.

I love the parts of travel where there is nothing left to do. When you’re hurrying out of your building to catch a car, and you press the elevator button and watch the numbers going up and down—there’s nothing you can do. You’re in the queue. You’ve already fulfilled your responsibility of pressing the button and earned for yourself this small pocket of time. No matter how late you are, or how important the meeting is that you’re going to, you can’t do anything but wait and relax, and the burden of moving fast is lifted from your shoulders.