Having been sleeping restlessly for some time now, I finally looked at the alarm clock on my nightstand, squinting so that I could focus without my glasses. It was 1:30AM. Fortunately the shift back to standard time had given us an extra hour of sleep that night, if you can call what I had been doing sleep. Smoochi had made herself comfortable, sleeping between my left side and arm, with her head sticking out from under the covers. She was purring gently, sensing my movement. I reached up and switched on a lamp. Eeper was sleeping next to Ritsuko, who was looking at me, both eyes wide open. “I can't sleep anymore; let’s go,” she said in a soft voice, as the cats began to stretch and move about on the bed. We had planned to awaken at 3AM, but I knew that it was pointless to try to sleep any more, for this was the morning that we were leaving for Isla.

This was a much needed vacation. The summer of 2002 had really taken it’s toll on Ritsuko and me. The week after we had returned from Isla in May, I had gone to Texas to visit my parents. My dad had been in poor health for a long time, and his condition had worsened. As the summer progressed, his health continued to deteriorate, and in the early evening hours of July 21, he passed away. Ritsuko and I received a phone call from my mother at about 6:30 that evening. A couple of hours later, we were on the road, beginning the 900 mile drive to my parents’ house. Even though his passing was not a surprise, it was still difficult to accept. I suppose that’s the way it always is.

That trip had been the last time that I had loaded the trunk of my car with luggage. This morning, however, I loaded our bags into the trunk of my car, beaming with joy. Since we had awaken plenty early, we took a couple of hours to get underway, having a last minute snack, and double checking everything. Going down the driveway, our headlights passed over the yard. I had cleaned up the first of the fallen leaves of the season a few days before, but the big maple trees still carried all of their leaves. I thought to myself that I would have a real mess when we returned, but quickly put it out of my mind as I looked over at Ritsuko. Her beautiful dark eyes sparkled as she smiled at me ... we were on our way.

Within a few minutes we were on Interstate 80, crossed the Mississippi River into Illinois, and soon got onto Interstate 88, the lonely stretch of pavement across northern Illinois also known as the east-west tollway. The cold autumn sky was clear that night. All the stars shone brightly against the darkness, the fading remnant of the moon behind us as the tires sang on the pavement below. About two and a half hours later, we began to approach the outskirts of the western Chicago suburbs. Sunday morning is a good time to drive to O'Hare; the traffic volume is only a tiny fraction of what one would encounter on a weekday. It was about 6:30 when we parked the car in long term parking, and made our way to the entrance to the airport train. Entering Terminal 3, we could see that a lot of people were traveling that morning. Standing in line at the check-in counter, it looked like mostly vacationers. The absence of business travelers is also more of a Sunday morning phenomenon. We usually leave for vacation on a weekday morning, and experience that strange juxtaposition of sitting next to people with laptops, PDA's, and cell phones ... people with schedules, contacts, and agendas, while the only thing on my schedule is the departing flight, my only contact is Ritsuko, and my only agenda item is to stay awake long enough for us to board that flight. I prefer to sit in the airport with other vacationers; granted that many of them are the same people who at any other time would be the bearers of laptops, PDA's and cellphones, but in a much better frame of mind.

We checked in, cleared security without incident, and stopped for breakfast before proceeding to our gate. By the time we got to our gate, the sun was glaring through the windows of the gate area. I smiled as I remembered sunrise on Isla, and thought that the next time I see a sunrise, that is where it will be. It was a blissful thought as I put on my shades, pulled my cap down over the top of my glasses, and settled down in my chair to enjoy the sunrise. I was almost in a trance when the gate agent announced a last minute gate change for our flight. Having momentarily lapsed into Isla mode, it took a couple of minutes for this to register in my brain. Flocks of birds were flying over me as I sat in my chair gazing into the sun. I realized that instead of birds they were the other passengers, hurriedly gathering their carry-ons and moving out to the new gate assignment. Ritsuko and I both seemed to be in a kind of trance as we made our way to the new gate. No view of the sunrise here, only cold stale walls pressing on us till we finally boarded.

Shortly after boarding, I must have fallen asleep. We obviously took off, but I was so tired that I missed it. My mind had gone to Isla, and the 737 was now bringing the rest of me.