I don’t know what it is about flying that makes me so pensive. My mind works at a thousand words a minute which is odd considering I rarely ever think so much in words as in pictures, sounds, and smells.
This morning I put on my pair of traveling shoes in a hotel room in new York and was flying through the air for a mere two hours
Once you reach a certain altitude you notice how soft the clouds all look. Almost like snow or fluffed cotton covering what could be the ground, but you would never know, it’s that opaque
When you’re in the air you don’t care so long as you can entertain yourself. Time passes slowly and you can get a lot accomplished if you simply focus.
It’s only when you begin the descent that you realize you’re finally getting off. You finally are home, free, no longer surrounded by strangers, but other memphians. Friends. Family. Your southern food is returned to you along with the warmth and suffocating humidity
Things that were once so small become larger. The size of matchbox cars at first. You could almost reach down and pick them up to play. You continue to feel the descent. Almost a free falling feeling. Your stomach drops and even though you were craving lunch during your flight your stomach has lost all interest in food for the time being. The trees look close enough to scrape the bottom of the plane.
As I look out the window I recognize MUS only by their field which bares “MUS” on one side and “OWLS” on the opposite. I laugh a bit at how much they pride themselves in their school. Sure they receive tons of money and their boys go on to do great things, but many of them will hurt you. Some of them are douche bags and ass holes although some are just fine. You can be friends.
We fly over Olive Branch and you can begin to see details on houses. Windows, paint colors, cars, children’s toys, no children outside though. Perhaps it is because you don’t pay enough attention. You look harder. Still no sign of anyone. Oh well. Younger generations have moved inside to play video games, watch movies, never leave their bubble.
I wonder if I was ever like that. I’m sure I was and probably still am. I ignore it though. A double standard. Everything is okay for me to do, but for others…for others, it’s different.
I feel as though my inner spirit has been freed a bit by the flight. Or maybe it’s been the last few weeks have been relaxing enough what with the beach, orientation, and new York.
Once i feel the bump of the wheels on the runway and hear the roar as the plane rushes to a stop, I know I should be exhausted, but I feel invigorated. Ready to carpe diem!
Put on my travelin’ shoes and I boarded the plane
Touch down in the land of the delta blues
In the middle of a summer day
