THE PRESENCE OF PLACES

THE PRESENCE OF PLACES


The CRJ900's wheels were just leaving the ground and the city lights were still within reach from the tiny porthole of a window. We sang out a goodbye, as though every last tree and bicycle could hear us. Just like that we were already in the clouds. 

As if to conclude the take off, she turned to me and said,

"when we were young, my dad always used to tell me to say goodbye to the places we traveled to."

I felt my heart swell at the thought of lifting away from such a pleasant experience, and nodded in agreement. Her father was absolutely right. 

I smiled back at her,

"Of course. Spaces have spirits, too."