The iPhone proclaimed 3:17, and I could hear what woke me. A cacophany of snores from the husband and coughing from the child in the next room. The coughing only seems to come when he lies down to sleep, and they make a mama's heart ache inside. I lay there for minutes, and thought of coffee and alone and quiet on the other side of my split-level ranch. I also thought of you all...the writers...the blogs...the artists...and the cities you inhabit. "Is everything okay?" he asked as I rose. Yes, fine. But I was thinking, "I just need some coffee and a little Paris to put myself right again." Now it's 5:09, two cups of hot coffee later, and I've already been twice to Paris, once to Afghanistan, taken a trip to Bavaria, and visited a dear friend in Mississippi.
I have to say that there's nothing like blog traveling to let you know that you're not so alone in the world. Lord Byron once said, "Letter writing is the only device for combining solitude with good company." I believe he would've approved of "blog traveling" with the same sentiment. (Are not our blogs our letters to world? Why else would they be called "posts?") :)