On travel, one makes arrangements for holy affirmation of one’s heavenly relationship with love.
What, then, is love?
It’s liberty, freedom of movement, safely seeking risk, a jog through St. Stephen’s Green for two minutes alone with the one who traveled 4000 miles for 120 seconds of reminding the other why we’re on this planet but briefly.
Each stop along the holiday route, they find a place to call their own away from it all, away from the familiarity of domestic excess…
EditAway from the responsibility of minding children for one wonderful smartphone-free ode to joy.
And so it goes.
An endless dance across a single globe.