Chicago Departure

A faint purple glow illuminates the Illinois sky at Ohare airport as I get ready to go. Things constantly flow, so I never stay too long, and I never stay alone. Today I leave one of my best friends behind in Chicago, as for me I go and return to the forgotten coast.

The glow comes in from the East as I depart from my overnight quest in the northern Midwest of the map…

Sometimes it feels like a trap; other times, a revelation.

Where would I be today if not here in my present situation?

As the plane ascends, I smile goodbye at the beautiful Chicago skyline to my right. Behind it, the golden sunlight shines brightly over a frozen Lake Michigan… even if I’m in and out overnight, it’s always a pleasure visiting.

This is my third time grazing the city… each time I’ve stepped in Chicago, I’ve been there for less than 24 hours a visit, so who says falling in love isn’t easy? I like to think I took some of Chicago with me, but the reality is that I left some of myself in Chicago. I leave part of me wherever I go.

How am I to build a happy home if I want to stay wherever I lay? Is it that I fear feelings of lack, or is the question one of lack of satisfaction? How will I build a happy home if I won’t pick a royal match with whom to build a castle? My indecision leaves me baffled. My indecision leaves me frozen, and I lack action.

I have yet to fly overseas, but when I flew out of ORD this morning, it was 9 degrees. It's the diversity of my day that pleases me. Right now, the aircraft I'm in has started its final descent into Reagan Airport, and I have four hours to explore before I hit the air again to North Carolina… after that, I have one more plane from Charlotte to Jacksonville, Florida, before I can start my drive to where I reside in Tallahassee. Thirty-six hours after getting home to my kitties, I’m scheduled to be on a plane back to my “home city” with my family in Miami, enjoying my friends and getting stuck in traffic, laughing.

Today is an extensively long day, so I brought my Kennedy literature to play. During the flight from Raegan Airport to Charlotte, I thought about Kennedy and how they shot him— but who is “they” exactly? Who’s to say we have to accept history as the majority tells it? Do you think the truth was told about Mr. President’s lethal shots? Probably not. John F. Kennedy was a skeptic, and the long political affiliation of his family lineage is probably where he learned it. If the man who ran the country doesn’t trust anybody, what did the world do to earn my trust? I only trust in God, and that alleviates most of my problems.

On my flight from Charlotte, NC, to Jacksonville, FL, the sunset accompanied the plane as we soared through the skies.

From the window to my right, I saw the orange light spreading slowly without a cloud. Despite this being the most intense display of colors I’ve seen today, the florescent gradient shades of orange and blue indicate that we are closely treading nighttime. In the distance, I can see that the bottom of the sky is the brightest toward the west side, probably by Destin.

If I look until my glare loses focus, I’m reminded of my sunsets in Panama City when time after time, I sat to watch the sunset with tears in my eyes.

It’s a pity of nature how I can be reminded of so much pain by something so pretty.

We’re starting our final descent into Jacksonville City. We left the atmosphere just as all that was left of the orange sunset was just a thin line glazing over the horizon lazily… it seemed it wanted to stay with me, and I wanted it to stay too, but soon I will be one with the road and the night sky to make my nightly appointment with the moon. The moon is omnipresent, so even when you don’t see it, it sees you… and it sees all the things you do.

Once we dipped below twelve thousand feet, all I could see were city lights scarcely spread below and a pitch-black sky— unmoving and transporting us to a vortex that led nowhere … The sky is so still that if I was on the ground instead of in the Boeing, I could see each light outside the aircraft glowing. I’d see the moving lights fly across the dark of night.

To see a shooting star interrupt the sky right now would be so wonderful. I’d say my wish out loud: Dear shooting star, I wish Sebastian was around.

On the drive back to Greenville on the dark bends of I-10, the moon, although just a sliver, came out to play. I’m passing under it at more than 80 miles per hour, and though I’m getting further by the second, it stays unmoved. The sliver of the moon is smiling at me, and the surrounding stars decorate the canvas.

It's as if the constellations were posing as freckles instead of heavenly bodies in the sky. Each one glistens delicately. As my vision shifts due to the car moving at high speed, I can see each star individually shine— seeing things for what they are is a talent of mine.

December 2022