Untitled reflection #1

When I was a child, my brother possessed an album of commercial airline logos. Being the darling pain that baby brothers usually are, I regularly pestered him to show them to me; to share his life with me.

Like my brother before me, I didn't fly until I was nine years old. Little did I know that it would be the first of many flights, and would take me far, far away from where I wanted to be, and who I wanted to be with. Years later, I am still trying to find my way home.

We moved house in 1979, but the album of the World's airlines took a different flight path. I often think of that album as I drift away at thirty-six thousand feet.