It’s been a long time since I’ve flown; the last time was to NY with Sabrina. That was back in 2018. I have been in isolation, my safe, controllable cocoon, for so long I have become jumpy riding in the car with someone besides me in the driver’s seat. I had been dreading this flight since we booked it; however, it’s an excellent little practice run for the mammoth adventure Zoë, and I will be taking to NZ on July 10th. I’m mainly afraid of not being in control when someone else drives, or I’m flying on a glorified bus. The flights to Nashville only take a few hours total. I said my usual prayers as we taxied down the runway with the sun reflecting off the wing outside the window into my eyes. The tarmac warm and hazed with exhaust fumes. Zoë points out every little detail as we prepare for take-off and ascend into the great blue yonder. Marc Bussard played in my ears, “take me home ooh oh oam” it’s a soothing sound. Nestled between the arms of Paul and Zoë, I’m in my happy place, snuggled against the people I love. On the ground or in the air. I read my book, look at the miniature world below me, dream of surfing on the rolling clouds, eat my biscotti and wash it down with ice-cold orange juice. I don’t mind wearing my face mask for the entire trip. I take comfort in the thought of being protected from germs circulated through the air vents above me. With or without Covid, I think of airplanes as flying germ jars. Paul watches a movie next to me, blocking out everyone around him. Zoë plays piano tiles on her phone with fingers that appear to fly at the speed of sound. In a blur of music and rectangular moving tiles, she focuses, and time passes quickly. We begin our descent, and my ears pop but not enough to hear clearly; I forgot to bring gum and will have to repeatedly plug my nose and blow to pop the air bubbles behind my eardrums. I am looking forward to seeing our family friends in Nashville. We haven’t seen Momo for a year. Tomorrow we head to Tim’s Ford, where we will be guests of the Satterfield’s on the lake. There will be no wifi, so the weekend is wide open for uninterrupted human bonding. I am an anxious flyer; however, the thought of the hugs and adventures on the other end of the ride makes it all worth it.
Jeri's Brain Dump 