Flight from Trouble

I’m in Trouble. Helluva place. As in hell-hole, horrible. I need to get out of here. And so I do…

I settle into my seat, I close my eyes. But still I feel crowded. Just as I know there are people all around me, I know that my troubles are right on hand.

Presently, I hear the engines hum. Rising to a whine. The brakes are released, we start to roll. Then I feel my body pressed back against the comfortable leather seat back. Nothing I can do. A motion forward, I’m committed, beyond my control.

Now starts the magic.

As the plane accelerates along the runway, I know the raindrops on the windows begin to move backward. Then become streaks. So it is with my problems. I hear more noise, more hum, more rumbling. I feel the bumps along the runway. Even with my eyes still closed, I know the streaks have now streamed away. I feel my troubles floundering on the runway. Are they still pursuing me? Who knows. I can’t see them, I don’t care, I’m free of them.

The plane rotates, I feel myself lifted into the air. The concerns, the issues are falling away. Strictly, I’m rising above them. Eyes still closed, I see all my woes in my mind’s eye, looking like an architectural model. Tangled trees, thorny bushes, razor grasslands, pesky persons, angry animals – all mere models, fluffy and harmless, in my imagination. I cannot discern the barbs, the prickles, the spikes.

From here, I cannot see Trouble.

I still get this each time I fly, short or long. What is left behind – toothbrush or trouble – is gone. There is nothing quite like being held captive at 30,000 feet that makes me release all that held me on the ground.

My breathing steadies. Trouble. It is still out there, I know. But I’m looking forward. It is behind me, made harmless by distance, made artificial by altitude.