I flew to Boston today to attend the funeral of my friend Pamela's mother, Ann Frame. I never got the chance to know Ann well--we met only briefly a few years ago. But Pamela is a friend who has at times dropped everything to swoop in with love and encouragement when I needed it most, so I would go nearly to the ends of the earth to try to do the same for her.
Air travel is a wonderful, amazing thing that also freaks me out if I think about it too hard.
"Watch your elbows and
knees, please, elbows and knees," chants
the flight attendant
in a sing-song cockney voice,
pushing the beverage
cart down the aisle. This strikes me
as funny. As I
hurtle through the air in a
metal shell, strapped to
a foam seat, going
six hundred miles per hour at
thirty thousand feet,
my elbows and knees
are the least of my worries.
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Sarah, How true. I actually laughed out loud at your poem. I love the way you think. Perhaps you should be writing a comedy script!
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