Pink Windows.

I don't like to fly. I'm consumed with some bizarre idea that the wing has a crack that everyone seemed to miss, but I can plainly see it from my window seat.

I also can't hear for days after.

On the way to Detroit,I sat next to this woman that most people would recognize. Not recognizable as in, "I sat next to Claire Danes" but typical, common. She had dusty blonde hair. A short bob with the front few strands deliberately tucked behind her small ears on both sides. She seemed sensible and prepared with her white cardigan neatly thrown across her lap. The weather might be cold that day...

She initially made me feel anxious for some reason. Too neat, too "bland", too stiff. She kept looking over at me. She smiled several times. It put me at ease after the third or fourth time. She seemed to mean it. Like those people who believe," If you smile at someone, the whole world smiles after.." She was that person.

As the plane was ready to take off, she raised her arm, closed her eyes and made the sign of the cross. I watched her for a few minutes. It made me feel safe. If God was on her side, he would probably watch out for me too. I mean, for proximity reasons If anything. I turned on my Ipod to listen to a story about a young man whose memory was erased after taking a malaria medication in India. He awoke, an uncertain amount of time later in an airport without any idea who he was. His name. His location. His girlfriend....gone. Reality was completely unknown.


I kept peeking at her laptop, as if there was nowhere else to look while we were flying. Williams Sonoma. J. Crew. Message from Hadson, just checking in. She smiled at me, not bothered that she obviously caught me peeking at her emails. My ipod kept playing while she shut her computer to watch Glee on the small t.v. set.


I watched her. At this point, I quit being subtle. I basically perched my chin on my hand and closely stared at her. I convinced myself that she liked that someone was paying attention to her. She wasn't all that interesting, but I couldn't stop.

She smiled at the T.V.

I turned my head to the window and watched the plane inch for the runway. My story ended. He was starting all over.

I was home, again.