Sky High

I’m in the air – literally. I don’t know where in particular I’m flying over, probably Northern California or Utah right now. We just turned to the North and the cabin fills with golden sunlight. By golden, I mean that glorious color when the sun has about an hour until it sets. It’s the gold that you have to step outside to be bathed in its beauty no matter what you are doing. I glance out the window and the terrain below looks like a ruffled evening gown – a sage colored satin beneath a delicately sheer teal tulle. Unfortunately, with the direction we’re heading, the sun is setting rapidly. I crane my head now to catch the last glow of the sun before it’s gone over North America. The horizon burns like a cooling ember – no longer on fire, but trying to stay lit for just a moment longer. The evening dress below no longer enchants my eyes; it has turned into the desert it truly is. Where am I in the sky? The sun is gone, only a dull grey remains, like my heart.

-Written on board British Airways Flight 0282 September 16, 2008

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