Two years ago I was in that America for the very first time. You now the one, with its states all united and stuff. Back then they had a president but they changed that a while ago and have installed a dust-coloured hate-puppet instead. They’re already regretting it.
My reasons for liking that America do not depend on who is or isn’t tweeting from the White House, they are much more to do with other people, ordinary people, wonderful people. One of them is very tall, but he’s conveniently married a not that tall at all woman so that I can talk with someone without getting a crick in my neck when I’m visiting them.
It was a huge deal, two years ago, for me to have booked myself tickets to sit in the type of transport I have historically been terrified of sitting in. I really, really wanted to see my tall friend and his beautiful family but being scaredy of planes coupled with being scaredy of being poorly while on planes or thousands of miles from home had prevented me from visiting him in any of the previous twenty-plus years he has been over there.
2015 was a year in which my own health hit some low, low points but which I came through. Several of my friends who also had health problems in 2015 did not come through them. Sprinkled within my grief for their loss was a growing desire to see a bit more of the world before I join them in the great beyond. Hence me deciding to force myself to sit in a plane in order to be in that America once I’d stopped sitting in the plane.
Best decision I’ve made in years. Since April 2016 I’ve flown to America and back twice more (the most recent trip was an even longer flight to even further away California). I’ve also taken a shorter flight to Dublin to spend a couple of days hanging out in a splendid city with my splendid son. I’ve boarded a Eurostar and visited another dear friend in Paris and I’ve also got myself to various locations in Britain too, Manchester and London being the furthest temporary homes during my new adventures.
In between times my health has not improved. If anything it has become worse but travelling was never going to offer up a miraculous cure for my troubles. Instead it offers me added meaning, extra reason to live despite my health issues. If finances and body allow I will head for Ohio again later this year. If not then I’ll continue to remind myself of the incredible adventures I’ve had since I first clamboured on to that flight to Detroit two years ago. And plan for 2019.