Mom sent me a mail with this title, which I found totally fitting. It seemed that, like him, the Powers that Be wanted us away from our (or my in this case) beloved Ithaca.
Heathrow was a mess. An absolute mess. Everything was a huge mass of people, camping there, waiting and turning the airport into a tiny city as the days went by. Information was precious, but scarce and contradictory. Answers and organization lacked everywhere, and each cancelled flight sent people crying when unable to reach their families for christmas.
So, as you can probably imagined, drama abounded.
In this tiny city, Lucila and I stayed for hours, waiting for a solution to our cancelled flight. But see, sometimes the Powers that Be want otherwise. Or London wanted to play with us more than it wanted to let us go.
I won't accept an interpretation deprived of poetry.
We were tossed by the snow as far to London, and like Odysseus, I still treasure and long for my overwhelming desire for Finland. But right now, right here, our journey morphs and switches into something else, a little bit more familiar but unplanned.
We could still wait forever in Heathrow and spend the days that remain of our holidays stubbornly waiting for a plane that might or might not come. We could.
Or we could just embrace change, and see, with curious eyes, what this city wants with us.
London's calling.
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