Today I watched a plane high overhead in London, on the descent to Heathrow I imagine. A clear day so I wondered whether they were being treated to the view in the photo, taken on a plane recently.
I love airports, watching all the people, wondering who they are and where they are going. Its sometimes a place of high drama. Balloons and delight greeting some passengers, others anxiously reading cardboard signs for their name, the long haul flighters looking tousled and bemused – economy more tousled than the fresher looking first ones out at the front of the plane. And the departures. Teenage sons keen to get out of their mother’s fond embrace to get through to passport control and to a new life beyond. Passionate kisses, minimal pecks on the cheek, the shake of a hand, a wave not unlike the Queen’s. You see them all. I love all that. Watching it all unfold around me.
And when I see planes in the sky I muse on those in them. On descent the relief of a long journey nearly over, a sadness that a holiday is now done and its back to work all too soon, parents with young children keen to get out of the censorious gaze of those who were deprived of sleep through their children’s sobs that went on just too long. For some a new start in this place, part excitement part anxiety. And when I spot planes ascending I think of all that expectation, settling down and trying to get comfortable, wishing you’d picked another seat or book, checking to see what movies are on, holding tightly the hand of your partner, wondering why the child behind you is already kicking your seat.
Just a plane in the sky and that is enough to set me off on a whole set of imaginings.
How about you?