August 10, 2018:
The plane landed in Glasgow at approximately 6 am local time. I can’t remember sleeping much as we flew across the Atlantic. That need that had been in my soul for decades had awoken like a hungry lion. I needed to get to Scotland, fulfill some promise made lifetimes ago.
Only I didn’t know who I made it to, or where, or why.
Seattle had been in a heat wave when I left. Upper 80’s/low 90’s. I’d been miserable for over a week. If I remember correctly, we’d hit triple digits within the week before my trip.
We make it through customs and immigration. I visited an ATM in baggage claim as we waited for the bags to come around. Part of me was nervous about my bag. Not that it was going to be lost, sent someplace else in the world, but that the name tag was gone. It’d fallen off as we headed out the door to go to SeaTac!
The belt started to move, and bags came into view. Mine wasn’t first, but I don’t remember it being last. I do remember being thrilled that the Death Star luggage tag was still there.
What? You didn’t know I had a luggage tag that looks like the Death Star? Now you do.
Anyway, we grab our bags and start to follow the arrows to street level. Needed to get a cab to take us to the train station so we could start the cross-country trip to Inverness.
Stepping outside, I stopped and took a deep breath. It was maybe 60, with overcast skies and a light breeze. Perfect weather.
I think that was the moment I stopped worrying that something would go wrong on the trip and embraced that every single second would be exactly what I needed it to be.