I’ve had jobs where every week I’d be leaving on an airplane. It still happens sometimes but not as much. So when I’m not traveling I like to take the time to do what “normal” people do. Meaning, going for a drive, letting time pass, waking up in my own bed. When I took this shot the jet in the sky brought those memories to my mind. I was the guy up there looking down at the people enjoying the rest of their Sunday.
Being up in that plane is neither good nor bad, it just is what it is. But there is another perspective rooted on the ground. It’s the perspective of, well, being rooted. I have moved around so often it feels I have no roots. I feel like an outsider even where I live. But I have a place I call home, and for that I am grateful.
Home does not have to be the place we were born or even grew up. It’s a place to return to, or maybe just a place to rest our head. With all that is happening in the world I am grateful for that simple pleasure. But nothing on this earth is forever, not even roots. Eventually a time will come when we depart one home en route to another. And when that time comes we will carry our home in our hearts.