As the airplane took off I noticed all around me. Almost everyone was reading something. Almost no one was looking out the window. Except of course for the child behind me – who had stopped kicking the back of my seat long enough to lend her full attention to what was going on outside her window. At what point in our lives do we stop enjoying those small things? At what point do we stop being awed by the beauty in simplicity? When do we lose our ability to enjoy the mundane?
I was reading too, but I stopped and decided to enjoy what was going on outside my window.
Everything was becoming smaller. People began to look like ants. The airplanes on the tarmac, the cars on the busy highway and the trucks at the warehouses looked more and more like my old toycars. The trees and the grass all began to blend into a beautiful mosaic of greenery.
The clouds are looking more and more like white frosting. Yummy (and probably low fat too).
Oh wait, now they look like a field cotton balls. Perfect to jump into. And play.
And play with Daniel and Nena.
How I miss them even on a short day flight.
To think that one day we can all jump and play in those clouds.
With Jesus.
Strange, the child behind me stopped kicking my seat and slamming her tray onto my seat.
It is all quiet now.
All quiet inside.
