Waking up above the clouds, it was only a misdemeanor, after all, so I'm starting to misremember. It was an inordinately long take-off, and I knew I should be saving my songs, but my throat was getting itchy. Only for a second, I closed my eyes, so I wouldn't be tempted to gnaw the dust from under my nails. And slept through it. Leaving. Whenever I'm above, I end up wishing I were a Christian again because I love it up here and would like to believe it were not finite. Is and isn't.
I wonder at the down-below. Wish I knew better geography. Are we above France yet, and can we stop in for a minute so I can practice my French in saying goodbye again?
I haven't forgotten, but I'm in a different place and simply care less. My interest has shifted. If you fall asleep in take-off, you forget to hold on to the you you're bringing over. It slips out and under your neighbor's seat. You don't wanna make a fuss, so you reckon you'll get it later, except the voice tells you you're arriving. Your very own high alt wake-up call. We're here now.
"Be here now." (Ray LaMontagne, probably sometime)
I spent too long being impatient with myself over trivial and not-so-trivial things. Disavowing things, changing my mind about 4 AM ballads. I ended up using the hard definitive once too many, so now, when I open my eyes above the clouds, I resist the urge to say "new clouds, new me". I'm the same old mnemonic, floating above familiar coulds.
I have learned to hold myself in my own acrid fluidity. Expect it will take long periods of time. That there is no laid-out mold for the way this turns out simply because my life has never turned out this way before.
Have I left behind the things I'm supposed to?
Hmm.
No.
But then again, you're not supposed to leave at halftime. It takes time, constant readjustment to living things. Fixation over come-and-go. I haven't left it in the snow at home. But neither am I thinking about it anymore just now. Up here, I am reminded of how nothing is permanent. Not even my soar above the clouds.
Cabin crew, prepare for landing.
I don't know about you, but I can (and often do) sleep like a baby during flights. It doesn't matter if it's first thing in the morning (like the one above) or mid-day and I'm well rested. There's just something about being on a plane... I could say it's the pressure, but I don't know enough physics stuffs to actually know that. So I'm not sure what it is, but I sleep. A lot. And wake up in a mood shift. And write about it. I've been away. How have you been?
Reading this brought me right back to the excitement of the adventure of going somewhere new! It seems like it's been forever for me. I wish I was one of those people who could sleep on planes. I have about a 50/50 chance of sleeping even if I have a flat bed in first class. I have zero anxieties about flying so I think it's more the anticipation than anything.
greetingsHi @honeydue, the image is gorgeous, it must be spectacular to live among clouds.