I awake to the brightness
of dawn about to break.
Countless sunrises
I've seen from afar,
but never before
from within.
The plane is surrounded
by the tangerine orange
of the morning sky.
From this vantage,
it seems so new
and unexpected,
as though this were
the first dawn
and I were Adam,
about to be born
into Paradise.
The food cart passes,
leaving me with
a simple breakfast of a
cherry danish and orange juice.
It seems like I just ate.
How many hours ago was that?
I guess
I fell asleep
right after supper.
I would like to sleep
this last hour away,
but my excitement
refuses to be quelled.
I take Purgatory
out of my pack
and try to read,
but I can't stay focused
for more than a sentence
or two at a time.
I put it back up
and look
for some other distraction.
My headphone radio,
Mary Chapin Carpenter,
and the window view
remain my only means
of passing the time quickly.
"There's two lanes
running down this road,
whichever side you're on
accounts for where
you want to go
or what you're running from...."
Those lines strike me
to the depths of my soul.
Which side of that road
am I on?
Am I really searching
for new beginnings,
or am I merely running
from the things in my past
that I'm too tired to face
and too weak to change?
Or maybe it's a little of both.
The problem is that
the seeking and the fleeing
both move towards each other,
converging within,
trapping me in the
selfishness and solitude
inside.
The real goal is to transcend,
to reach outside to other
people, places, and experiences,
rather than to descend
into my own hidden universe
like the lonely individualist
that American culture
tries to make
each of us into.
My self-examination
is suddenly forgotten
as Ireland comes into sight
through the window.
I can see almost all of it:
the deep, glowing green,
the protruding mountains
peeking through
the blankets of fog.
As the sun sparkles
on Galway Bay,
I understand why they call it
the Emerald Isle.
It is a jewel
among a world of mere stones,
a utopia
among a world of dystopias.
I put my headphones
back in my bag
and move over to the window
for a better view
of this masterpiece.
Here I am,
at last.
There are no words
for the emotions
that swirl inside
as we continue to circle,
waiting for clearance to land.
-------
After thirty minutes
of admiring the land below,
we begin to descend.
The sun quickly fades
as we sink
into the thick grey fog.
I lean back in my seat,
and wrench the armrests,
not out of fear,
but anticipation.
I feel like a child again,
awake at three A.M. on
Christmas morning,
staring at the clock,
my heart pounding away,
imagining all the surprises
waiting under the tree.