Water droplets dance right outside the plane’s window. I’m sitting on top of the wings; my mother is sleeping on my shoulder. It’s barely seven a.m. The condensation on the windows flies alongside the plane. I watch them, thinking that it must be so cold where they flutter, and wondering how they float through the sky like they do. I’ve never seen such a beat to the rhythm of the air. It’s like wind in my hair, but I can’t feel the moisture, and I’m scared when the wind is too hard on the plane.
We are going to Virginia.
When we land, there are other planes taking off. I say a silent thank-you to our pilot, and I pray for the other passengers on the planes. I hope there is another person who sees the water and appreciates their river dance.
There is so much beauty in simple things. That’s why I believe vocabulary mustn’t always be deep to make a point. Sometimes little words make a super impact. It isn’t always rocket science.