This is my first post since starting my new/old career of flight attendant. It is a prize I consider hard won. One full year since applying, the job brings with it excitement, pride, and a sense of direction. A sense of direction? Well, almost. The new job has brought me back to a city I swore I would not return to. I was so convinced of this that I sold all my personal belongings rather than store them because I was NOT going to return. Then again, I was not going to consume any more energy drinks, and I have. I was also not going to ignore the low tire light on the dashboard of my car, and I have. There must be something very true about that adage of teaching old dogs new tricks. I am proof.
My flight this morning was very light and so on descent I took a passenger seat and looked out the window for quite awhile. What a beautiful creation someone or something has put together. The fall colors, although probably a few days past their prime, glistened in the sunlight. Perfect little bundles of color surrounding lakes and roadways, and monstrously large homes. For a moment, I felt very small in a big world. Knowing that inside each neighborhood, inside each home in that neighborhood, there is a story. A family made up of people and those people each with their own story and beliefs.
I quietly thought of the analogy of life being like a quilt - top side all pretty with colors and perfect stitching, and the underneath part where all the workings are. The enormity of the view made me understand why we seek for something greater than ourselves. It's hard to look out at such a perfect masterpiece and not question how it all got that way. I can hardly organize my purse. How did our Country, our continent, the world...how did it all get organized and put together so well? I ask that question often, but usually in silence. I don't say it out loud because it makes me feel weak and queasy inside. Who knows...maybe I'm afraid of the answer, if there is an answer.
For the days when I feel really alone, I try to find comfort in the idea of the quilt. It seldom works, but that's because in an odd way I have become accustomed to a melancholy that I fight against constantly. It's not a great space to occupy. It's much like a seat in the last row on the airplane. No one really wants it but someone always gets it! And I know I am not alone in this 'aloneness'. Like people in recovery, those of us who fit into this category of looking for answers - we have our own secret language. We drop hints about the darkness and the unknowing, and those like-minded folks
pick up our hints and nod their heads in recognition. We know who we are. There are lots of us, but
it's still a lonely place to be.
I am, after all is said and done, and the tears have gone away... I am, an optimist at heart. For that I am grateful. I will continue to gaze out the window and look for the answer. Perhaps I will find you sitting next to me and gazing out there too.
