To Palm

The flight leaves so early, we all pull down the shades to sleep like a tired unit in agreement. I wade in and out of in-flight entertainment but perk up for mysterious reasons 2 hours before landing. Pull up the shade. Crisp white peaks of the southern Rockies spread out below like quiet mile posts. A few minutes later, the arid red deserts of my home rest underneath us, snaking rivers carving intricate patterns into the rock and giant buttes reaching like monoliths into the sky. I think I saw those mittens in a movie once and I'm not sure from which side of the camera. The familiarity is reassuring; in a tin can full of strangers, I smile.

We are not stopping here, we do not stop until we reach the coast, until we reach the palm trees and sunshine we've been promised, I refresh the arrival data and count down minutes. Four hours of sleep and I should be more tired. But there is life to be lived, and precious moments to squeeze out of the last of the year, you read through a journal and cannot remember who you were at the start, but no matter.

You are here now. You are happy. And the forecast calls for sun.