cross your fingers

It appears living so close to LaGuardia has done nothing to quell my overwhelming fear of flying. Somehow I thought seeing the hundred or so planes sailing in and out every day (just beyond the bell tower of the Immaculate Conception) would temper the gnashing of my intestines at the very thought of boarding a flight. Not so.

Thursday afternoon I fly to Florida. So of course I have convinced myself that—this time, surely—the universal law of averages will claim me and I will crash to ground in a deadly fireball.

Seriously. I wish I were exaggerating.

Have I mentioned I was kissed this week? By a man I've harbored hidden in my heart for years? Did not see that one coming, but I've gotten past the shock and now the overwhelming loveliness has set in. So (of course) I am now certain that, having narrowly escaped the typical trappings of nasty Breakup Land, having outmaneuvered the impossible and kept my ex-boyfriend my best friend, having survived the cathartic crying to feel the frisky wind of freedom on my face, the potential for infinite happiness... and now this moment this week with this man, the gods must punish me for coming this close to happy.