We are sitting on a runway in Newark watching the lights of
the airport shining, blinking; red, yellow, green and white signals conveying
information, directing traffic. Then we are moving, rolling along, approaching
the take off runway, speeding up faster and faster, feeling the air lifting the
plane, up, up, up, come on Nelly, the pilot is revving the engines, faster,
faster, acceleration, pushed back in the seat and then in a moment of extreme
lightness we are airborne. I have never understood exactly how these huge,
heavy, metal, mechanical, cylindrical tubes get off the ground. But now I am
looking down on the city lights, patterns of streets and a stadium outline. As
we bank a turn I am looking up at the sliver of a moon.
After many long hours flying over the ocean, eating dinner,
reading, studying, unable to sleep wrapped in excitement about the journey we
are slowly approaching our newest destination.
The plane flies toward the horizon. Madrid, as if in a hurry to meet us, getting
ever closer as the world turning on its axis revolves in our direction. I am watching the sun become visible over the clouds
like a very long fire straight across the horizon. I believe the world is one fire. After
daylight appears I see clouds resembling the cotton batting used to make a
quilt. I believe I am looking down on the tops of Banyan trees, but it is the clouds I see.
As we move from the Atlantic to European land mass there is
a powdering dust of evil white coating the landscape as if some demonic baker
had been sifting confectioner’s sugar over a very lumpy cake. It is my first
premonition of how cold it will be in Spain this winter.
No comments:
Post a Comment