planes

i've always been enchanted by airplanes in the night sky. i'd always imagine where those people were going ... or from what they were running. either way, seeing those lights among the stars always filled me with a sense of romance.



tonight, the pooch and i were going for a long walk - since night seems the only reprieve from oklahoma's sweltering summer heat. somewhere on the other side of sparrow park, a group of musicians were playing banjos and guitar and the last refrains of earl scruggs' "foggy mountain breakdown" filled the otherwise stagnant air. and, as i always do, i looked up, confident i'd seen an airplane leaving, departing or just flying overhead.

i wasn't disappointed. there above me was the red and white of someone's adventure or misfortune; opportunity or escape. and, as i always am, i was filled with a melancholic joy.

there have been tens of hundreds of thousands of times i've imagined where those people were going and hoped upon a million dreams i'd one day be among them.

i recalled a particular night in selma, texas, where my childhood friend shannon and i sat out on the river and watched a plane fly off into the distance. i don't know if i vocalized it then, i don't know if i would have even known how, but all i could feel were the chill bumps on my skin and the quickening of my heart and the knowledge that simon and garfunkel's "homeward bound" was the perfect soundtrack to that unnamed sensation.

or a time when i was living in portland, oregon, and lay out on the deck of my apartment - scared, lonely and hopeful. i imagined someone on that plane was heading back to oklahoma and could send my love to the people i'd left behind. or maybe a new friend would be landing in portland and our common loneliness would lead us to one another. i waved up at the plane - just in case.

or tonight, sitting in the park, petting my pooch, and thinking about all those times before. sitting there in the same neighbourhood i've lived in for the past eight years; the same neighbourhood that has expanded and grown internally to embrace the woman i've become. i watched the plane until it left my vision for chicago or newark or gatwick; until it became just another light among the stars.

and my typically sad excitement was still there, only now with the knowledge in a few short months i will flying over someone else's night sky. flying toward countries where unexploded landmines still exist, the all-too-real reminders of war and independence; to countries whose beautiful castles and villages were destroyed in the name of ethnic cleansing, but who rose again and represent nothing if not beauty and resilience.

and i offered a delayed wave to the people above me and before me. because on that night when i journey above someone else's dreams, i hope - i pray - there's someone below who's waving up at me.

"above the planet on a wing and a prayer,
my grubby halo, a vapour trail in the empty air
across the clouds i see my shadow fly
out of the corner of my watering eye
a dream unthreatened by the morning light
could blow this soul right through the roof of the night." -- pink floyd.