I can see the moon hovering in the distance, while the morning's rays engulf the world below me. People moving about with their hectic, repetitive lives- work, work, play, work, then more work again. I should probably still be asleep right now. I like flying though; being free of your duties for a little while, and although I'm confined to this tiny space, it's still relaxing to be able to look out of the window and take in the world with a different perspective.
The lady sitting across from me is from South Africa. She's currently been flying for 16 hours and is now tackling her last 4 to end her journey in Orange County, California. She's quaint and speaks with a gentle tongue. She reminds me of someone I know, yet I can't think of exactly who. Her husband died this past July, and she is going to stay with her son and his family for the holidays. She seems interesting, and a part of me wants to know more about her story. After all, everyone has a story. I wonder if she has always lived in South Africa, or what she does for a living? I even wonder if this is the first time traveling without her husband? She eventually lays down in her seat, trying to get some rest. From the expression on her face, it would probably do her well.
The man in front of her is reading some newspaper with Cam Newton on the cover. He keeps shooting glances at me...it probably has something to do with my Auburn bag that's sitting next to me. However, I'm assuming since I haven't received a hearty "War Eagle!" that he isn't a member of the Auburn family, but nonetheless I give him a smile. I do this partly out of pure kindness and partly out of knowing that my team probably stomped his at some point in the season. Oh, Auburn...I do love thee. WDE!
Two hours have passed, no sleep accomplished, but I have listened to the entire John Mayer- Battle Studies album and caught up on some much needed writing. I guess you could say the thing I love most about flying is the time it gives you for reflection; it demands you to conjure up something to keep yourself occupied, yet I fall short of being successful almost every time, unless you count this entry as being successful.
The flight attendant has asked me four times now if I would like something to drink. Please note that my Sprite is still fizzing from when she first handed it to me. She's a kind, blonde lady and it makes me laugh, so I guess I don't mind.
We're almost to Cali, flying over deserted land with the rivets of a river cut into the earth so precisely that it doesn't seem real. As many plane rides as I've taken, it still blows my mind at how beautiful (this word doesn't serve it justice) the world is and how great God is for creating it all. I still sit in awe at each, new glimpse I'm offered.
