A State of Wonder

January 2, 2008
By Caity Rose Vomastek, Chester, CT

It was almost 6:30 pm in Florida, the perfect hour for the sun’s date with dusk. I glanced over to the left of the plane, and fixated my eyes out of the window. I was immediately drawn upon a sunset. It radiated colors that were weary from a long day; deep maroon, devious red, scorching orange, and jealous mauve. The combination burned through the surface of my eyes. It was almost as if the sunset had aged by time itself, slowly dying before it collapsed over the horizon. As we increased in speed and altitude, the sunset began to grow larger and larger until it became so broad, that I could no longer comprehend its length.

Sighing, I rested my head on the back of my seat, and faced a tranquility given to me by the color combination of the sunset. Every thought and concern within my head had been pulled out by the view, and added to the abundance of colors that were dancing on the crest of the newborn evening sky. I looked out my window, already been masked by the overpowering blackness of the night. The windows across the aisle were still fighting to keep their light alive.

On my side of the plane, we flew over cities. Under us were clusters of light from houses, buildings, highways, and cars, creating blobs of electricity. Transforming into larger figurines, the light clusters took the shape of deep sea fish, lurking in the blind depths of the ocean, illuminated to attract their prey. I could see the large creatures, bending and swaying as they passed me in the darkness.

I was frightened when the window turned solid black, and questioned why the fish has so suddenly disappeared. Why were all of the lights gone? Had they blown out? No, I reasoned with myself. We were flying over the ocean.

I peered out of the window, the frigid glass the only object which separated me from the height of the sky. I tried to find some reassurance from the night. The blackness forced me to squint my eyes, however my sight was defeated. Never had I ever felt such an overwhelming sense of misdirection. For the first time, I was oblivious to the course and speed at which we were moving.

As my eyes adjusted to the new darkness, I began to recognize boats, represented as only faint white specks, floating within the abyss below. The dividing line between the illuminated boats and the stars ceased to exist. Together they had formed the setting of night. No longer did I feel a fear for flying but instead a satisfaction from a star-freckled sky. I was gliding through space.
Hour after hour I stared out the window and never acknowledged my thoughts. The setting was enough to keep my mind through a state of wonder. Only the faint twinkling green lights holding on to the edge of the wing kept me reminded that I was indeed, on a plane.

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