That John Denver is Full of Sh*t

this idiot just got on a plane this morning with nothing but her laptop, camera, a backpack full of fruit snacks and moved to Spain.


It's fine. It's totally fine. I'm fine. Really, I'm fine.

I stayed at my mom's last night to keep her company while she organized her carry-on (that literally consisted of snacks and tampons) and sang her John Denver's, I'm Leaving on a Jet Plane thirty times in a row.  (I probably would have sang her something else if I knew more than three cords and one strum pattern on the guitar.)

After sending her off to Tonga, Argentina, Paraguay, and even Ohio, you would think it would get easier to watch her get on a plane, but it doesn't.  It's never easy to say goodbye to your best friend.

At least this time it's only until June.

But as I sit here in at my computer and watch the blizzard that is raging outside my window-

Mariah June has never felt so far away.


I'm not fine.

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