I don’t like morning much (too much weird energy). But I missed my flight last night. So now I’m staring out over the giant fish bowl called the North Denver security checkpoint very early in the morning. And I feel only gratitude.
It’s oddly restorative watching the system whir into life: The dozen security people moving and talking as if it’s not 4:30 in the morning, the hundreds of passengers silently delegating responsibility for the infrastructure that will jettison them across the country. It’s so intricate. So precarious.
I feel lucky that I got to live through a period of time where something this delicate was even possible.
