Sunday, December 18, 2011
A winter's afternoon. Through the kitchen window I see a flock of golden-crowned sparrows darting about in the black sage. Strange to think that a handful of days ago I was thousands of miles away in Japan. On the return trip I slept on the plane as it crossed sunken continents and leagues of darkened ocean. To fly is to enter an altered state, a sort of intermission between lives. The oddest thoughts occur to me on airplanes. I find myself slipping into the past. Now I watch Puck the cat sitting on the wall, washing his paws and surveying his realm. The sparrows chirrup. The dog dreams in a pool of pale sunshine on the deck. My husband peels a tangerine, hands me half with a kiss. It was good to go to Japan. But it's better to come home.
Posted by Tai at 4:32 PM