Another crowded plane ride.
Another congested airport terminal filled with other people all just trying to get to where they're going.
Most of them are here because it's Christmas weekend.
The airport is blasting Christmas music through their speakers as if anyone could forget the holiday with all of the wreaths and red ribbons tied on every pole.
All of these people, bumping shoulders and rolling over each other's feet with their rolling luggage all just in a hurry to either fly away or to get out of here and into their families warm homes where they can sit around a fireplace while a Christmas tree sparkles in the corner.
So many happy smiling faces all around me. Even with all of the stress of the holidays and the insanity of busking around this overwhelmingly large airport, people are still finding reasons to smile.
Looking forward to things.
Then there is me.
I pass by the real Christmas tree decorated with multicolored lights, thinking about what a fire hazard those things are.
All it takes is one bad light, or one branch that's a little too dry, and the house goes up in flames all around you.
A terrible way to die.
And arguably the worst season to have it happen.
Everyone else just moves around it, not a thought given accept to maybe appreciate the fact that it is impeccably decorated.
"Merry Christmas." Someone says to me as I pass out of the revolving doors, letting myself out into the night.
Merry Christmas.
What a holiday this is for me.
On my way to a police station to pick up my sister who should without a doubt probably still be in the hospital where I saw her last.
It's exhausting.
This part of my life, the part where I drop everything from around me to pick up her broken pieces instead.
It's draining me.
I can't even let myself think about Ben and Elizabeth right now.
Anytime I start to, I'm filled with an entirely different set of nerves and anxiety.
At least the ones I get from Alice, I've literally grown up with.
It takes an annoying amount of time to finally hail a cab, but I'm finally tucked into the backseat that smells like an old diaper and out of the windy cold night.
So far, me and the Texas weather, not friends.
When the woman driving asks me the destination, I try to hide the embarrassment in my voice as I tell her the police station, and she equally tries to hide her surprise at the request.
She doesn't try to talk anymore after that one.
Not most people around here's holiday plan I guess.
But they just don't know what it's like to have an Alice.
And the ones who do...
My heart is heavy for all of them today.
I know how hard the holidays are on families of the sick or the addicted.
I'm thankful for the quiet ride.
It gives me a little more time to think about what I'm going to do about Alice.
There are so many options but none that are good.
