Between landing and arriving

I believe it was an internet meme of Albert Einstein that quoted him as saying, “I love to travel but hate to arrive.” I can’t say I agree with that sentiment, as I’m 10 days and counting on this sinus-turned-chest nastiness that started on the flight to Dublin. In a way, I still haven’t arrived because I’m waiting for the full-healthy-body experience of summer in Spain.

Also, on a less sooky note, I am two weeks out from my last catsitting gig and still waking every morning with the thought to feed the cats first. In a few different ways, I still haven’t arrived.

One morning this past week.

I’m reminded of a word I used to understand incorrectly: landed. I didn’t know the word could mean owning land. I thought the word meant only having arrived. I used to think “landed gentry” referred to gentry who has arrived. Come-from-aways, as we say in Newfoundland. But also, being landed is in effect being established, having arrived.