the window seat.

It was only 8 months ago. The day that found me in a window seat, nose touching the plastic pane, eyes peering into endless layers of thick, white clouds. As the plane slowly dipped down, the clouds thinned and darkened until we pierced through the final blanket of smog. The window into the heavens sealed up behind us once again and we were swallowed up by a place that was to be my home for the next two years: Mexico City. 

It was my first view. So many thoughts swarmed and fled through my mind, yet I could not catch and hang onto one long enough to process it. Instead, I was left with a sort of calm stillness, filled with more feeling than thought. The feeling of fright and awe. Of unfamiliarity and excitement. Of wonder and the certainty of the birth of something new. 

Today I find myself in a similar seat with a similar view, although the plane that carries me is northbound, intent on leaving the city far and quickly behind us. What is it about this view that mesmerizes me so? Maybe it is that it's always full of discoveries. As if someone is peeling back the clouds and pushing the horizon farther from my view so that I can see more of my city. Maybe it is that if offers a moment of silence. A pause from the ceaseless life below that consumes thoughts and steals time. Or maybe it is that it offers perspective. I am reminded of what and who got me on that first flight to Mexico. And that there is still work to be done there. 

A few more days from now will find me here once more. I may never be able to explain exactly why I am always so anxious to settle myself into that window seat, but I know that it somehow ties my two worlds together and offers 4 hours and 10 minutes of uninterrupted wonder each time we meet.