Like airplanes
We were the fifth in line and I only noticed it after the weariness had worn off and the second one took off. It was close to midnight and we had been taxiing for a few good minutes before the turns and maneuvers on the tarmac made sense to me. I thought we were simply going in circles, further delaying a flight that's already five hours delayed. Until I noticed the lighted paths and the arrows, pointing us where to turn and where to go.
Go straight, turn left, go straight again, turn right, then pause. Gather strength, maintain momentum, race through the tarmac, and with such force, take off. The first few seconds of being airborne feels wobbly when we try to find our balance.
I looked out the window and the lights from houses and buildings were twinkling and, as if, floating; an illusion from the mist and the recent rain. It was a spectacular view and I sat there staring at it for awhile.
That's how it is. We cut ourselves from the jet ways and umbilical cords; we taxi through well-traveled runways of getting schooled and an education (two very different things), and then we take off and find our bearing as we fly along.
Up in the air, we can be so unfettered and alone, but not entirely lost. Things pull us from one direction to another and the ride can get bumpy and turbulent. But we know of a destination, if not, at least a connecting flight or a layover. So we take a descent. We fall. And we crash and burn. But sometimes, it lifts us up where we belong (where the eagles cry on a mountain high) and being up in the air doesn't feel so alone anymore.
Go straight, turn left, go straight again, turn right, then pause. Gather strength, maintain momentum, race through the tarmac, and with such force, take off. The first few seconds of being airborne feels wobbly when we try to find our balance.
I looked out the window and the lights from houses and buildings were twinkling and, as if, floating; an illusion from the mist and the recent rain. It was a spectacular view and I sat there staring at it for awhile.
That's how it is. We cut ourselves from the jet ways and umbilical cords; we taxi through well-traveled runways of getting schooled and an education (two very different things), and then we take off and find our bearing as we fly along.
Up in the air, we can be so unfettered and alone, but not entirely lost. Things pull us from one direction to another and the ride can get bumpy and turbulent. But we know of a destination, if not, at least a connecting flight or a layover. So we take a descent. We fall. And we crash and burn. But sometimes, it lifts us up where we belong (where the eagles cry on a mountain high) and being up in the air doesn't feel so alone anymore.
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