Transit.

This morning I rolled over in my white sheets to grope for my alarm clock like I have every day since moving to Cambridge. The clock read eight-fifteen. It took a moment to register. Okay. Eight-fifteen. EIGHT-FIFTEEN?! Electrified, I leaped out of bed, ripped off my sheets, ran my bedroom trash can to the one outside, zoomed into the bathroom, threw out all my shower stuff, threw open my makeup cabinet, swooped its contents into my blue duffel bag, slammed down the lightswitch in my room and literally ran to the T stop, bags banging painfully against my thighs. At 8:14 I was asleep. My flight was scheduled to depart at 10. So much for a leisurely goodbye.

I reached the Harvard T in record time and sped downstairs to the inbound train. Off at Charles/MGH due to my normal train randomly becoming an express train headed in the opposite direction. New train to Park Street. Transfer to the Green Line. Train to Government Center. Transfer to the Blue Line. Train to the Logan Airport (interrupted by a crowd of T security men who delayed our travel by at least ten minutes as they chatted with our driver). I reached the Airport stop at 9:15 and almost cried. My flight would now be boarding and I was still six bus stops from my terminal. I hadn't even gone through security.

I scanned the glowing board for my departure time, sure I'd see a fateful final boarding call. AND THEN: Delayed. My flight had been delayed just half an hour. Just enough time for me to get through the airport and even grab Starbucks before stepping onto the plane on my own terms. Now that's what I call a tender mercy.

So goodbye, Boston. Sorry I was too strung out to take one last look around Cambridge or enjoy my last morning ride across the Charles River. It's been fun. And by "fun" I mean I loved it here so much that in the future I plan to move back.