An English In Kentucky



















June 6th 2009 "D" day

    Not everyday do I have the opportunity to contemplate flying with an understanding that yet again I will be fastening a seat belt.  I hear those more recent songs of flying and my heart winces because of a song's sadness or happiness.  

    In memory I can place the lyrics as belonging to me because of aero-planes.  I join with the moment of leaving, or with the moment of greeting.  I say hello, or I say goodbye and suddenly it is another world.

    I do not refer here to the mechanics of flying, rather I mean the reality of distance.  Those long ago places in my lifetime more often than not involved the flight of aero-planes.  



    Here in Kentucky, where I live, they fly higher than their sound can travel.  At night they are a twinkling star that moves too quickly.  In the day they can be a vapor trail.  I see them and I have memories.

    And while being held in their spell, I have watched jet engines and I have watched propellers, I have watched the trembling wing and I have stared down at the earth, seen places I could never visit.  I have been humbled by the size of our planet.

    I don't remember ever having enjoyed it.  But in the category of "me", aero-planes have become like bookends on those shelves where 'being' is sorted.  They are not the vacation, or the holiday, rather they are a stillness before change, and I am sentimental.  

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