flying

One of the things I loved about flying in airplanes when I was a kid were the clouds.
I would press my face to the window and dream.

In my child-world there were fairies who danced on the clouds. This was their home.
I could climb out of the window and frolic on the white puffs with them. The clouds easily supported our miniscule weight and we could clamber around the cumulus towers and play hide-and-seek in the billows.

Somewhere along the line I lost touch with my fairies.
I also stopped enjoying flying on airplanes.
I am not sure if my loss of the fairies and my dislike of flying coincided, but I would hazard a guess that they were. Perhaps I need my friends in the clouds.

For the past few years, I’ve been taking night flights. This last time I took a trip on an airplane, the flight left mid-afternoon. I was able to press my face to the window.
I wondered if my fairy friends were frolicking in the clouds far away.

I imagined that they were having a merry time out there.

It was a lovely flight.

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