This is how my days begin, with the roar of an engine. I keep my eyes closed and imagine children returning to sleep, businessmen turning off mobile devices, and perhaps one or two giddy souls with their eyes locked to the window, prepared to see the sun rise and new lands. I try to time it so my eyes open right to the plane as it crosses the sky out my balcony door. I've practiced this for two years, wherever I'm lucky enough to live near an airport. Another one of my little games that makes boredom nearly impossible.
Washing of the face. Feeding the dog. Teaching clothes packed. Pedal. Pedal. Pedal.
The salutes of security guards superfluous. It's another guessing game: which language will they greet me in, how long will their eyes follow me, and whatever do they do all day? My white skin is what men and women here labor for. In America, I'm pasty. But here I'm beautiful. Coupled with blue eyes? Sometimes I wonder if it is this combination that has gotten me so many friends.
Eyes quickly return back to phones. Always back to the phones. Let's add filters to this time we have together. Let's enter into a more expansive world called "Online". Meanwhile, another airplane's engine roars and the joys of life-- the joys of now--pass over the heads of those around me.
I love planes and flying! So fun. So many people, small to large, all colors, all ages. Don't sit next to the crying baby! Where it's very ironic in that it seems like there is no motion, people reflect and take a breath. A living metaphor that we are all riding the journey of life together. With the same pilot too.
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