I’m in Toronto Airport, on the cusp of a grand adventure. Forty-two days from now, I’ll set foot in Canada again. Until then, I’m an honorary Belgian, Senegalese and American. All privileges. During this trip, will I be writing you every day, lilting over the events and people, the landscapes and architecture? I hope so, because no doubt there will be much to describe, to feel into, to celebrate.
There’s a main reason I travel: to come together with people, folks whose outward lives often seem so different from mine, but whose souls resonate with this Bruce. And here they are sitting in front of me in the departure lounge:
A tall young man in dreadlocks and Adidas sweats, fiercely punching his cell phone keys
A middle-aged Jewish couple, she with a head scarf and he with what I’d call a beanie, staring out into the rainy darkness
A well-bearded fellow resplendent in long hair, shorts, argyle blue knee socks and a purple baseball cap whose logo I can’t read
A cute blond teenager, alternating between her pink-edged iPad and her phone, with a glimpse of a smile on her face
A distressed looking Aer Lingus employee dressed in a sharp black suit, him no doubt dealing with the realities of a late-arriving airplane
A young man bouncing on his father’s lap, blissfully unaware of our overnight flight to Dublin, Ireland (and perhaps, like me, venturing on in the morning to Brussels, Belgium).
All human beings, doing the best they can to live this life with grace. Me too.
On we go across the big pond …