Descending is always my favorite. Not because I'm about to finally breathe a sigh of relief that I'm back on God's green earth where I fully believe I am intended to be, as flying legitimately freaks me out if I let myself think about it for too long [Okay, fine. That's part of the reason.] But, mainly? The views. The slow descend into the city you're landing. It boggles my mind, every single time.
To see things from that different perspective...it plays tricks on my mind because I'm not used to it. Houses and neighborhoods in these perfectly formed little spirals. Crops and grasses in perfect squares. Roads that make the biggest, unique maze I've ever seen. Factories. Lakes. The ocean as we came into Miami. People that looked like ants. Cars that look like the matchbox ones my brothers used to love. The tiny blue dots, you know, we call them swimming pools.
When flying this week, my head was quieter than normal. Especially on the way home. But then I started jotting things down in my notebook. A little sea of words that just kind of flung off my pen and onto the page about how crazy this thing called life is and how we all view it and perceive it so differently, based on one thing. Our perspectives.
Everyone has their own, and we're all allowed to. Often, our perspectives are shaped by our place in life. Where we're at. If we're happy or unhappy. If we're dealing with major family crisis or not. Sick children. Deaths of loved ones. Different cultures. Different backgrounds. Different geographical location (even within the US). Different upbringings. Different values. Different morals. Different religious beliefs. Heck, even down to as simple as a good or bad day at work, or a good or bad day staying at home with your children. You name it. It can change our perspective. It can change my perspective.
That's why it's yours. And I have mine. And it makes us unique, and that's okay.
Oh, and you better bet I'm a window seat gal. I'm sure you'd never have guessed.