For as long as I can remember, I've loved to stare at airplanes, I've loved to stare at the sky. As a child, before I had ever been on a plane, I dreamed of the places they were going. I would stare up from the swingset and watch them glide across the sky until they were obscured by trees. Watch the contrails soften and fade away.
Aren't they beautiful? Isn't it amazing that people are able to hurl several tons of metal into the sky and have it float? I've always thought they look like whales swimming in the sky...
In Memphis, there are always FedEx planes coming and going. I still find it difficult not to stare, whether I am walking or driving. People must think I am crazy. An adult shouldn't be so easily distracted by something so commonplace. These days, watching an airplane often reminds me of San Francisco, and the first time I ever flew.
I want to go back terribly. Today the sky and clouds remind me of San Francisco, Chinatown, mochi, lychee bubble tea, imported Japanese CDs. And also of the crushing depression when I returned home. Of how much I hate Murfreesboro.
And then I am reminded of where I thought I would be now, and what I would be doing. After coming back from San Francisco, I started taking fashion design classes. I thought about transferring schools (I should have), but decided it would be more practical to stay in Murfreesboro for a little longer. I was miserable during that time, with only music and trinkets to remind me of a better place. And years later, when I came home from Japan, it was exactly the same. Except I decided to do nursing school and move to Memphis. I hope it pays off.
Maybe that is why I can't stand to sit at home alone at night sometimes. During the day, you can try to work toward the life you want. Night is just wasted time. At night it's easier to think about dying before you have a chance to do everything you wanted. On a clear day, I can look up and think of the places I will go.
