The flight path from GA to my location in PA pleases me visually. On clear days I can follow the ridges of the Allegheny Mountains from WVA to PA, a long green spinal cord (it’s summer now) linking disparate American cultures (from above, anyway).

As the plane descended, PA came into view:

The farms here impress me each time, as if I have stepped back in time.

But it is always soon–too soon–when I am amidst another line of travelers, waiting.

On the first flight up, a young couple was seated in front of me. The young dad was a soldier, too. He had a tattoo identifying his field of aviation on his arm, and his beige hat had a stitched emblem of a CH-47 Chinook. The older of the two daughters lay in a car seat that faced my direction. The child had flushed red cheeks the color of cotton candy and strawberry blonde fine straight hair. Her dad gave her a lollipop which she sucked for the entire flight, her blue eyes looking at me through the space of the two seats dividing her from her dad. It made me miss my daughter when she was that age.

Across the aisle sat the mother of the two girls. She had the younger of two girls on her lap, and a car seat on the window seat, but the toddler would have nothing to do with lying down. She wanted to stand in her mom’s lap; otherwise, she screamed. And screamed. And screamed. But when her mom stood her up on her lap, the screaming ceased like the turning off of a faucet, and her blue eyes (identical eyes to those of her older sister) surveyed us all. Her pudgy arms were so cute, red, and pudgy they reminded me of beef with white strings around it, striations of white running along her toddler limbs like integument.

When we landed, I had a three-hour layover. I went to one of the airport shops and purchased a protein drink, a Pepcid AC, and a fruit snack, all of which were exorbitantly priced. I called my wife, letting her know I had made the first leg of this trip. We chatted for a bit.

The next leg of the trip was a full flight. The two women seated on my left were returning from a trip to Alaska. They took selfies and posted their images on social media, sticking their tongues out and somehow grinning simultaneously. (I do not purport to understand the current rage of photographing ourselves doing what [surely] every former generation would have thought self-absorption, fatuousness, or worse. But they took at least a dozen pictures of themselves, appearing more and more delighted with each new face they donned for their selfies, and uploaded them for the world to enjoy.)

I opened the book I was reading today, a wonderful paperback by James Wood on the history of literature. To the two women to my left, I must have appeared a Luddite who scribbled beasts of yore uoon the walls of caves. The ladies continued snapping selfies and checking social media. We were two separate universes separated by inches.

Arrived in PA and made the drive to lodging. Will see my fellow soldiers in the morning. Time to finish the Wood volume. Truly a wonder-filled read by one who relishes literature’s gems. Then the gym and a burger for supper. To be continued . . .