Writing Prompt: When I fly I feel
Feeling the heat of a stationary stuffy plane listening to emergency announcements, ready to go, ready to get home with myself and a quick dinner. Hungry starting a two-hour flight. I feel the force of the plane rattling and shaking until the full thrust of the giant metal bird pulls me upward. The silver-winged machine allows me to whisk through the air at record speeds to see family living in a distant state. Flying through the air feels magical and mystical. The mystery of flying. How can this big heavy machine full of hundreds of people and all their luggage be lifted toward the heavens? I say a prayer and trust I will get to my destination. Supposedly safer than driving, and possibly safer than walking, I expect the machine to get me to my destination not imagining any other option. From the sky above, sitting in the rocking big ship, I look down on the sparkle of distant cars, the sharp points of mountaintops below me, the rectangle of rooftops and the tapestr...