In my previous life…

sometimes when flying over less populated spaces across the U.S., I would peer down at places like Laramie and wonder, “What is that town?” “Who lives there?” “How far is it, from ‘civilization?” “What are the people (and their lives) like?” and finally, “Do they want to be there?”

I think I may have mentioned—once or twice—that with our teeny-tiny airport we don’t see many planes around Laramie, except for an occasional glimpse of one of the three daily departures or arrivals of a Great Lakes airline plane to and from the Denver airport.

Occasionally, we’ll also get a glimpse of that miniscule speck way up in the sky, that is sure to be a jet crisscrossing the great expanse of the United States, or what’s left in it’s wake—the white fluffy plumes of jet smoke.

The only clip art I could find

Now, as I look skyward and see those very same planes way—way—way up in distance, carrying people like me to destinations unknown, I wonder, “Who are they and where they going?” and finally, “Do they want to be where they are going ?”

And if any of them are peering down at me, let it be known that, “Yes. I do, in fact, want to be here.”

At least—for the time being that is.