I didn't fly on an airplane until I was twenty years old. It was a day of anticipation, and excitement. I savored the newness of that day. Watching the world below. Sitting and chatting with a stranger. Seeing the comings and goings of so many people and dreaming of my destination.
I've flown many times since that day, until the energy and buzz of the airport has become ordinary. Second-hand. But today was different. In spite of several flights Katelin has taken before, she absorbed each moment of the day -- observing, watching, wondering.
I want to remember her enthusiasm. To memorize her face and her words.
"Is this our plane?"
"I think we're flying."
"This is so fun."
I want to remember the way she studied and asked about the safety information packet. The way she waited anxiously for each snack, each drink. The way she enjoyed her special pillow and blanket. The way she said, "Blast off!" when plane started to rise.
I enjoyed the day with her. We watched through the small airplane window as the cars below grew smaller and smaller. We talked about flying through clouds and then we gazed in delight at the piles of puffy white stretching below us. I felt, just a little, like I was flying for the first time.
Interestingly, Seth actually was.