Well it's over- my time in Seattle.
It seemed appropriate that when I left my parents house for the airport everything called out like a Marco Polo swim game..."Here- Here- Marco! Polo! Find me..."
Fog, souped up and thick , ladled out like Clam Chowder, blanketed everything. Lost in the gray, surrounded by obscurity, I accepted that this was a good a place to move on from. Taxiing to the end of the runway, I awaited the ramp up of the jet engines. The thrust, the push your back against the seat, bear down like you're about to get fucked really hard, and then let gravity have its way with your stomach. Sorry mom, but that is exactly how lift off feels. Maybe it's best that we don't go into what landing feels like.
And take off is nothing compared to turbulence.
As soon as we flew above the clouds, I looked out the window and the sun shown down on me and the mountains appeared. Mt Rainier, Adams, and St Helens on my right and Mt. Baker and the North Cascades beckoned from the left a good morning hello. The Cascade Mountains fell away, bringing up the rear and the desert and the Columbia Plateau took their place. Already I could see the Bitterroots, the Blues, the Kettle River Range and the Sekirks- guarding this high desert as if they were protecting a sacred, vulnerable, dried up heart in need of healing, restoration, and a protected safe space in which to recover. I put on my sunglasses and waited. I paused letting everything from the last four months, all the sadness, the upheaval, and the disappointment lift. Expectedly the sun warmed my face and I relaxed as all that heavy stress I felt on my shoulders disappeared.
Then I made the mistake of looking down and realized that huge dust storms were forming across the scab lands below, trailing for miles like a witches finger. I'd remembered a weather segment I'd seen back at the airport terminal, something about late spring snow falling throughout the Idaho panhandle and northwest Montana. A strong, die hard cold front now spilled west, gaining speed across the high arid plateaus. This weather front would serve as our welcome.
The pilot came over the intercom and informed the flight attendants that things were about to get really bumpy, to take their seats and prepare for some fun as we descended into Spokane. Sustained 40 mph winds, with higher gusts, coming straight out of the east stood ready to greet us. I anticipated an embrace that I knew most observers would probably mistake for spousal abuse.
About the time the pilot finished his announcement was about the time our aircraft became God's Cat Toy. Descending toward the ground, our aircraft became engaged in a good round of make up sex with gravity. We pitched, we rolled, we dosey doed. The guy sitting across the aisle from me turned white. I smiled at him, pulling down my black felt Cowboy Hat real low while putting my let hand on the seat in front of me, and extending my right hand up into the air. Riding the seat bullrider style, as if I was going for an eight second ride, I added a "yahoo!" for effect. The man weakly returned a smile just as the plane dropped. The act of relaxing his mouth relaxed his stomach and next thing I knew he bent over and I thought, "Oh no- please not now, that's so not necessary."
We kept rocking and rolling, and I never saw the guys face minus the paper bag again. Landing was more like a determined reclamation of earth, as we bounced like a playground ball down across the runway. After three years of flying in small twin engine aircraft, I thanked God that I was safely in a larger plane as I watched debris flying by me during our taxi to the gate.
My sometimes roommate Paul met me at the airport in his beat to shit ancient Isuzu trooper "Elvis". The reality that I was closer to home than I'd been in six weeks reminded me that as much as I'd just ridden ma nature and came out with a high score, I had many unresolved issues waiting for me up at the ranch. The ride was far from over.
So here I sit. The mail is piled on the dining room table. The answering machine is full up of messages. The new spring growth is started. And in today's calm, my flags are all tattered and shredded from the spring storms, the relentless winds and the ravages of the last few months. As I look those torn and lifelessly spent stars and stripes, I can empathize.
I know just how they feel.
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