High Above the Atlantic

High Above the Atlantic

The steady hum of the engines filled the cabin as I leaned toward the window and gazed out. The clouds stretched out like a giant white blanket, soft and endless. The sky above faded from light blue to almost navy, and for a moment, I just sat there, watching. It felt like I was floating in some peaceful, quiet space between here and nowhere.

I was on my way to Germany to visit my son. He was in the Air Force, stationed there, and it had been way too long since I’d seen him. This trip was a big one. The family and I were going to Germany first, then Paris, then London. After that, we’d head back to Germany before flying home. It felt like a once-in-a-lifetime adventure.

I shifted in my seat and glanced around. The lights in the plane’s cabin were dimmed. Some passengers were watching movies, but most were asleep, getting the rest they needed before arriving in Germany almost ten hours later. Those travelers, unlike me, were used to flying. Me? This was my first trip on a commercial airliner. So there I was, at 32,000 feet, gazing out the window at the wonderful world outside.

We had plans to visit old castles in Germany—and we did. We explored the streets of Paris and London, too. The whole trip felt a little surreal, like a dream I hadn’t quite woken up from.

The clouds seemed close enough to touch, yet distant, like memories that were hard to hold onto. Maybe that’s what I liked most about flying. Up here, the world felt a little smaller, and everything I worried about back home seemed farther away. For now, I was just along for the ride, heading toward something new and something familiar all at once.