(Much to the chagrin, I'm sure, of the gentleman sitting next to me who was trying to sleep.)
I don't get to fly often, and I fly at night even less. So, when I do, it's a special treat. To quote another Redheaded Adventuress, whom I aspire to be like, flying at night leaves so much "scope for the imagination." Flying during the daylight hours has its beauty to be sure--seeing the patchwork quilt of fields side by side or roads carved into the earth in methodical yet beautiful patterns--but flying at night...
If you're at just the right altitude with just enough cloud cover to fog the view below, the city lights peering through the mist look like stars, and if you squint ever so slightly, you can pretend you're flying upside down, even that that you're on a rocket cruising through space. And the cities scattered in the distance are far-off galaxies.
When the clouds deny visibility below, I still have the Chesire Cat moon smiling at me.
Or when the sky seems clear and free from the fog and you fly over a well-lit metropolis, it seems to shimmer--either from the electrical currents coursing through it, from the ever flowing traffic, or from the, more likely, cirrus clouds that sneak through the darkness and dim the lights in ripples--like the scales of silverfish.
Between visiting my Home Land, spending time in the only house from my childhood I can, and reading Madeleine L'Engle, I'm remembering what it is to be a child.
I am ashamed to admit I had forgotten.
I'm still in the process of remembering, and as I ride out the little bit of turbulence on the plane, I hope I will do the same when I reach the ground again with more and more childlike grace.
Sweet home Alabama. It feels better to be back than I thought it would. I had to fight back tears a few times yesterday as I made my way. I love where I grew up, and it hurts to leave.
I told an old friend that it was strange to be in Michigan again, and for such a long period of time. It was like watching an old movie of someone else's life. Since I graduated high school, there's been a greater disconnect from my life there and my life here. There was so much I had forgotten, but as soon as I was back in the environment, there was so much I remembered. All at once...
If I've been distant for the past few days, Alabama friends, that's why. I wasn't just 800 miles away, I was ten, fifteen, twenty years away. I wanted to absorb as much of it again as I could, and that required time and attention.
I think it may have been harder, too, because this was the first time back after Mamaw passed. On the plane ride there, I thought about planting flowers with her and my Papaw. Gardening was such an important part of their lives until the past three or four years. And when I was very small, I helped them. I loved when it was time to plant the impatiens and the tulip bulbs... I continued to help them as I got older, but life starts pulling on you from all sides, and tending the garden is no longer a priority.
At this very moment, it is my fervent prayer that someday soon, it becomes one again.
I'll update with more specific details of my visit later, but for now, I needed to express the more nebulous emotional experience.
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