Like an ocean that spans beneath the wing of the plane the clouds float with bumps and slight peaks. Turning, the sun appears once more, the radiant blue of a summer time sky exists if only momentarily from our view. It has been up here all along hidden from our sight among the clouds from which all the snow had descended for the past weeks of winter’s rage. Now here I sit with a view to the heavens stretched before me with no end in sight.
Mere mortals of old would never have believed the gift of flight. Yet now among me sit those who take this gift for granted, just a bus in the air to them. No wonder to seek, no awe of a child witnessing the earth’s majestic heights for the first time. So here I sit my jaw dropped, face pressed to the tiny glass and eyes opened so wide they may soon hurt and I take it in with a smile. I look peculiar in such a confined space as this. Where all are suspicious, cautious and unsure of each other surrounded by strangers. I will smile; breathe it in and thank God for not the destination but the journey upon this plane, this massive invention that gives sight to the heavens.