aeroplanes

we love a good flight now and then.

the take-off is exhilarating, the view, breathtaking, the destination, faraway, and the journey, unforgettable. burned in memory, from a personal experience with the cocktail that is serotonin, dopamine and adrenaline churned thoroughly by the rare but inevitable meetings with turbulence that the Captain warned us about; simmered well by the peaceful ebb and flow of our great voyage through time. reliable, dependable time.

some fly most days of the year. theyve sat in all kinds of seats save the pilot's. all the airlines love them for it, giving them cards to put in their purses. everybody loves a frequent flier. and who doesnt want a free flight every once in awhile? great new experiences that feel different every single time, just a phone call away.

but some have never flown, and then some promise never to fly again, from fear of the unknown or respectively, fear of the too well known. some have irrational aviophobia born of reports of crashes and hijackings or just have simple intolerance to vertigo. then there are responses from the superrational in bids to avoid costly travel fares, flight delays, an angry crew glad to have them off the craft or even, quite disappointingly, boarding the wrong flight and regretting everything single aspect except the much awaited landing.

but even they might be considered the lucky some compared to the rest who can no longer get past the gates even if they wanted to, because they lost their travel documents, or because their visas were denied, or because they couldnt clear security, or because they couldnt renew their passports on time, or because immigration officer found them to be flagged on the list, or even quite disappointingly, because the lady at the counter simply said no due to complications with the baggage...

but with grave effort fueled by a motivation yet invisible to me, some manage to overcome these obstacles, only to find their names absent from the flight manifest, befuddled and completely lost--for all seems over. some give up there.

some decide to to take the boat. some arrive at the ports only to find empty docks and word that their ship has sailed. more give up.

the rest walk, feet riddled with callouses, plagued by blisters every now and again lifting up their worn chins to ease their aching necks, gritting their teeth in front parched tongues, squinting sweat and sun out of tired eyes, only to once again see amongst the clouds, little aeroplanes tracing long lines in the great sky above. and they set their gaze forward, carry on walking, arms outstretched, casting on the grass, shadows of wings they know will always be there wherever and whenever. shadowy, but no less reliable, dependable, wings.