There are two times a year, in my current line of work, when it becomes time to land the plane. When the months and the moments have driven us higher than high, and now the sky is clearing, and we must find our way down.
We’ve got another two hours until dawn right now, here in Central Texas. Another two hours in which the little blue light from the coffeemaker clock will slowly hand over the kitchen to the sun. And it’s still now, and it’s calm, and my eyes are swollen but my mind can see the words, and it won’t be many more times of this. Not for a good while, anyway. Because crash or glide, the plane is coming down, and there’s a relief in that. But there’s that stillness up here too.
You can see a long way from the sky.
