I like to believe that if I were to pick up a child who is screaming beyond reason on an airplane, sit them stiffly on my lap and stare deep into their young eyes, that I could connect with their soul. If I was to keep my focus, really stare them down, I could access a level of understanding that adults tend to dismiss as luck. Through this wizardry I could make them quiet, satisfied and curious.
But, alas, social hurdles prevent me from trying; the parents, the stewards, the small aisle ways and the misinterpreted kidnapping. For now I will just have to turn up the lumineers and drown the chaos. My ears the victims.
The woman across the aisle from me is clutching a rosary. The beads
indent her wrist as she squeezes and her french nails turn white as the
plane drifts up to altitude. She makes the sign of the cross and closes her eyes. She has her faith somewhere else right now. Mine remains firmly planted on the pilot's java fix this morning.
I am on a flight, en route to San Fransisco and then Wyoming. I will be performing my duty as a bridesmaid, with due honor and respect for my friend who is brave enough to follow her dreams. So where is my mind? It bounces like a slow motion pong ball between pending goals, obligations to friends and a strange guilt from getting what I wanted.
Why must we crave to be the things we are not? Who am I speaking for anyways? ...or is it just me. I am about to go celebrate a union between two people who were brave enough to commit to eachother and although I just passed customs I feel a world away.
In my haste to smash my eardrums and silence the children through jedi mind tricks I must have missed the safety briefing.