Flying into Fire: the Last Sunset

The engine starts, plane rattling and shaking a bit. You're sitting by the windows and you can see the wings tremble and quiver. You begin to move, the plane slowly driving down the runway. Green light illuminate the path, emeralds sprinkled on the grounds, like bread crumbs marking the path home. The plane picks up speed. Your leg muscles tighten, pressing closely to the seat. Your whole body tenses, dreading and anticipating the heart-stopping moment when the plane lifts off. Suddenly the wheels leave the runway. The sky and ground are at an awkward angle. Gravity is defied. You are flying.

Slowly the cars and buildings shrink. You're staring at a matchbox creation – small and imaginative, anything could happen. The roads and houses create intricate lines and shapes with little splotches of color and varying shades of brown. It could inspire an abstract painting.

Then you see it...that glorious setting sun. The plane accelerates, flying directly into the medley of orange, salmon, gold, and red. The mountains are dark, cast in shadows. They blend in to the dark purpling clouds as the sun slowly retreats.

The sky darkens and the plane coasts high above the world. You sit back and close your eyes. When you open them next it's pitch black outside. Peering down into the dark world you can see small clusters of light...cities and towns, light spots in a dark place. They look warm and inviting, safe and comfortable, and so, so unattainable from this great height.

The plan descends. Tilting down towards the earth, everything suddenly grows bigger. First the too small for Polly Pockets to dwell, it grows to the size of a Lego masterpiece, then Barbie-size, and then the normal size for humans. The ground is coming up quickly. It's almost terrifying, that imminent reaching the ground. Right before the plane hits you brace yourself. The wheels hit the earth with a jolt. You shudder, shake, and release the tension in your body as the plane slows to a halt.

Wait for awhile, and then it's lift off again. The same body-tensing, heart rattling mount into the sky. It might be the closest you'll ever be to flight like Peter Pan's, free and careless, childish joy. The city of Minneapolis twinkles beneath you. If only there were words to describe its beauty. The lights flicker and shine. Oranges and reds, golds and yellows, whites and lights. Everything glistens in the dark, shining together into an alluring picture of light. If only it could be captured, hung on a wall, and enjoyed forever. Instead it must reside in your mind's eye...perfectly hanging there for years to come. A sight worth seeing, and never forgetting.

St. Louis draws near. The lights shine and the houses grow larger. Trees become clearer, a whole world appears from the blur of colors and shapes you saw from above. You land, you are back, a sort-of forgotten version of home.


(Pretend this was posted on Tuesday)