I live for flying. Everything I love to do most simulates the feeling of flight in some way-- driving, puppeteering, dreaming, trapezing, and ice skating. But on Friday I had a rare opportunity to do the real thing when a generous friend offered to take me up in a small plane, which I have always wanted to do.
I've been on plenty of passenger jets but this was completely different. I've never seen places I knew well from the air before. We flew over roads I drive daily, the nuns' retreat, the place we fire spin, the river boats I used to work on... from above everything looked so much closer together, and everything was beautiful beyond belief. I did not want to land. I still can't say all that it did to me. I left somewhat diminished for now knowing what an earth-bound being is missing.
No small part of the wonderful-ness of the trip was the pilot, one of the most extraordinary people I have ever met. He kindly banked the plane so I could pick out where things were and take pictures. In the photo, the Mercy Center below, where I spent hours on the deck of the tower watching planes above, day dreaming about what they could see.