The smaller the plane the stronger the wind, and the more you feel like you are connected to the sky and flying. There are about eight of us on the plane and no one is talking. We are all gazing out the windows, periodically blinking.
Not quite in the clouds but a part of them. I listen to the hum of the propellers as the sun drops behind puffs and layers of cloud, sending pockets of color into the grey sky. One grateful thought links to another as I smile and find new beauty and new warmth in the toy-sized world below, and this grand angelic life above.
We are all traveling for Christmas. We are leaving the mainland, leaving our work and responsibilities, traveling to an island to eat, be with loved ones, and be merry. And as the sun nears the horizon, and one color bows to another, only happiness is left.
