In Flight

How a place can be at once so familiar and yet so foreign. The terminals look the same, the smooth currents of transit, the broad sunlight through wide windows. But the floors lie emptied, the hallways muted. Every masked smile is tinged with fear. It’s like returning to riding a bike, except suspecting that the vehicle has been taken apart entirely and reassembled in ways you cannot guess. We walk like testing the ice.

But the September sun was mild on JFK airport this morning, and I stood in its light basking. The American West awaits across the land, and I return to its light, expectant. Winter returns, yes, all the darknesses of a life return eventually but oh, what light there is yet in the world. I am determined to find it all, to stare into its promise and believe it till I burst.

I know I doubted the world, I know I doubted the healing of my scars, but here we are, in the middle of a world on fire, and somehow all I see is sunshine. You do not turn down such a gift, when it gives itself to you.

You say thank you, and you do everything you can to deserve it.