It’s been a long overdue vacation for the family. First clue: we took a five-hour plane ride, about an hour too long for The Boy. Child Harbat was fine, even pulling a piece of luggage larger than her. She was a very compliant Sherpa. The Boy needed to be in constant motion, his legs churning and arms flapping like a wayward penguin. When the pilot finally de-lit the seatbelt sign I let him take his first look at the world from six miles up. This bought us at least ten minutes of quiet:
I have many memories of childhood flights, watching the world roll past underneath a topography of clouds crowned by celestial blue and skylight so clear you think you’re halfway to heaven. Second clue: Sun-blasted desert turned to mountains and escarpments crumbling like burned pound cake. Then greenery took over and grassy high meadows, pine forests, lakes only seen by birds and coyotes. Child Harbat saw the sun make an accelerated descent before we were sandwiched between two black sheets, sodium-arc lights at the liminal space. Then the ground rose up to meet us with a bump and we were terrestrial again. Did Child Harbat need to go to the bathroom? Yes. Could she wait until we got off the plane? No. Were we the very last people off the plane, after the cleaning and restocking crews had scurried through and the flight attendants smiles were fading to fatigue? Then the children were baffled by the time change (last clue!) as their bodies and eyes gave competing opinions on bedtime.
This week I’ll slowly be revealing where we’ve ended up, flotsam on the great slosh of people back and forth across the country. To all those who’ve bought my books, thank you. Reviews online help to fill my bucket, as I learned from CH’s kindergarten class. Happy reading!
Writer, architect, father, husband.
Oh yes…I remember those long flights with a 1 1/2 yr. old boy with flapping arms and legs and always in motion. Glad everyone landed safely and now settled in for some fun!
I’ve grown up now and don’t flap my arms as much. Legs, yes. I kick the seat and stomp up and down the aisle demanding cheese sticks and trucks.