I don’t like flying. I tell people that when we travel Beth does all the planning (she does) and I just show up at the airport (I do) and in 2-10 hours we end up someplace faraway, or even farther.
Beth explained to me that in the early afternoon the flights from overseas begin passing over our heads here in Portland, Maine, on their way to Logan, La Guardia, JFK and points south. I’ve been fortunate, thanks to Beth, to be on some of those flights.
I know contrails represent massive amounts of fossil fuels burned, and that that carbon is bad, but I do get sentimental and that itch to travel gets itchier when the sky is clear and it’s early afternoon and the flights from overseas are starting to pass overhead.
For reasons I can’t explain in detail right now I’m looking forward to our starting to travel again as a family next year.
Wanderlust, by Paul McCartney, from Tug Of War
Far, Far Away, by Wilco, from Being There