Time Machine

Over thousands of miles and hundreds of flights my air travel has blurred to a single amalgam. I no longer recall individual airports or trips though occasionally a single airplane ride etches itself indelibly in my memory – sometimes for the drama, sometimes for just an epiphany.

This morning I departed for San Antonio. The air was crystal clear as only a February morning can give. The flight path took us west, and I was amazed how clearly I could make out my very own house below. We then turned gently south, and just as clearly I could see the Potomac River meander from Harpers Ferry through Point of Rocks and past Leesburg – all in a single view. Further on lay Thoroughfare Gap, The Plains, Warrenton, and then Culpeper. My heart warmed to see Old Rag Mountain and then our Novum farm. I had the urge to knock on the cockpit door and say, “You can drop me off here, please.” We continued to traverse the Route 29 corridor until I saw Roanoke and finally the New River leading to Blacksburg.

In a mere thirty minutes I had traced the arc of my existence for the past 47 years, and somewhere there on the frosty Virginia Tech campus my son was walking between classes as I had done so many years before. In some strange kismet I realized my arc of so many years was now becoming a circle.