We board in ten minutes. I’m starting to relax a little, but the competitor in me won’t let me celebrate put my feet into the sand n water if the gulf shores. I’m still tense enough to the point that when I went to the bathroom a few minutes ago, I looked for my work key FOB so I could get back in the office when I finished & washed.
I saw another signpost along my way to publish Book of Blues:
As I got through the security checkpoint & met back up with my mother, I saw a familiar gentlemen sitting on the bench at the end of the aisle. He was adorned in a dark brown overcoat n a classic rimmed brown hat. His posture was of a tired man holding on to his patence n virtutre as if it was engrained within his essence.
The man was the Reverend Jesse Jackson.
I don’t know the good reverend. He could tell me from Adam but for the fact that Adam was Mesopotamian and I more than likely am not. I nodded politely; he nodded back. Ships passing in the night.
But I took it as a sign that I’m going in the right direction. Much like how I drove by and around BB King’s tour busses, taking pictures n pissing off the drivers while on my way to Minneapolis to discuss the book with my cousin. I’ve had numbers & signs like that.
I often consider “signs” signs the metaphysical equivalent of buying a new car and then noticing how many other people own the same car web you’re on the road, but these things I notice make me feel better.
That better feeling makes the difference.
Mom found the iPod shuffle I threw in her purse when she went to the bathroom.
Lining up for boarding here in a second. We have class A boarding so I dun feel do rushed.
And if anyone was wondering, the good. Reverend Jesse Jackson was flying Southwest Airlines.
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