I managed to get some sleep on the flight home from Victoria last night/this morning. When I woke up, I was excited to see some cities out the plane window - city lights are so pretty from up in the sky. Then, when I looked over the plane wing (instead of behind it), I saw just a strand of intense red light in the middle of the darkness as we neared the edge of daylight (the pictures don't do ANY justice to the colours in the sky). It was special to me to get to see it because I just happened to be awake and 40 000 feet in the air. It is extra special because it is my and Matt's anniversary today! So, here are thoughts from my journal on the plane:
Every day starts like this somewhere - a slash of red on the horizon that slowly widens to make a rainbow of colour, testing if this day might need to appear in black and white. The purple of this new day sinks into inky blackness stretched over the plane, and for now the wings mark a boundary line between now and then, last night and tomorrow.
Behind us is night, and just now light is creeping even into that fading memory. We have slipped into today, and it is a new year.
Every day starts like this somewhere - a slash of red on the horizon that slowly widens to make a rainbow of colour, testing if this day might need to appear in black and white. The purple of this new day sinks into inky blackness stretched over the plane, and for now the wings mark a boundary line between now and then, last night and tomorrow.
Behind us is night, and just now light is creeping even into that fading memory. We have slipped into today, and it is a new year.
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