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Nov. 5th, 2018 05:38 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
dariaphoebeMy day was 6 hours old by that point, but I'd given back an hour when I crossed a time zone boundary, somewhere in that last half hour of flight. The hour of predawn driving so I could unceremoniously deposit my car in the long term garage at the airport that had briefly served as the hub of my time in The Hub had thankfully been uneventful despite the dismal weather.
I stepped out of the main terminal building to the curb, wondering if the glass structure behind me shared a lineage with the Ohio Center, a structure long since incorporated into Columbus' convention center. The feelings so evoked served only to make me miss that city all the more, as I still lamented the one I was in. I was determined to make the best of it, though.
Shortly, a black Prius pulled up, and a man slight of build and not quite old enough to be my grandfather got out to help me with my bag. We exchanged brief pleasantries, but for whatever reason when he seemed interested in engaging further, I followed his lead without hesitation.
I wonder often how much my voice betrays about my history. In places where I might be at a disadvantage because of the bigotry of others, I'm sometimes hesitant to say too much. But if he had any inkling that it had taken me two puberties to reach this stage of my life, he betrayed nothing.
We started from one shared point, the early awakening we'd both shared that day, before moving along to housing security (his son had suffered some of the same setbacks I had), the explosive development Nashville has experienced since my last visit, the traffic pattern changes a place experiences as it grows and changes, and moving in and out of rings of orbit around a place in phases over one's life.
When finally I clambered out of the car across the street from the downtown terminus of the city's single commuter rail line, I bade him a pleasant remainder of his morning, and found my way to my accommodations for the week, quickly fixing my face before rushing off to a talk. Perhaps the week would be less emotionally draining than I feared, after all.
I stepped out of the main terminal building to the curb, wondering if the glass structure behind me shared a lineage with the Ohio Center, a structure long since incorporated into Columbus' convention center. The feelings so evoked served only to make me miss that city all the more, as I still lamented the one I was in. I was determined to make the best of it, though.
Shortly, a black Prius pulled up, and a man slight of build and not quite old enough to be my grandfather got out to help me with my bag. We exchanged brief pleasantries, but for whatever reason when he seemed interested in engaging further, I followed his lead without hesitation.
I wonder often how much my voice betrays about my history. In places where I might be at a disadvantage because of the bigotry of others, I'm sometimes hesitant to say too much. But if he had any inkling that it had taken me two puberties to reach this stage of my life, he betrayed nothing.
We started from one shared point, the early awakening we'd both shared that day, before moving along to housing security (his son had suffered some of the same setbacks I had), the explosive development Nashville has experienced since my last visit, the traffic pattern changes a place experiences as it grows and changes, and moving in and out of rings of orbit around a place in phases over one's life.
When finally I clambered out of the car across the street from the downtown terminus of the city's single commuter rail line, I bade him a pleasant remainder of his morning, and found my way to my accommodations for the week, quickly fixing my face before rushing off to a talk. Perhaps the week would be less emotionally draining than I feared, after all.
