Cruising at an Altitude of 37,000 Feet

Photo by M.A. Howden

From high in the sky, Melissa’s perspective brings change into focus

I am above the clouds at 37,000 feet, coming back from a trip to peer into my future which, in an odd twist of fate, actually might take place in a place I thought was my past.

A week or so ago someone dear said to me, “I never thought my life would look like this at 54.” Some days later I heard myself echoing the sentiment to someone else adjusting the age down by a year.

I don’t have any idea why I said that though because I don’t recall ever imagining the age of 53 at all. In fact I don’t think it ever occurred to me to think about what life would be like at the age of 53. When my mother was 53, I was 30 and I have some sense that at that time I was still kind of thinking life was about to happen, or rather thinking that whatever I was doing, and wherever I was couldn’t really be it.

It is easier to recall what I know I would not have imagined; I would not have thought that by now my best friend would already be dead. I never would have believed that someone I respected, trusted and looked to for inspiration would let me work for him and then simply not pay the thousands of dollars owed to me. A scenario in which the person I loved with my life betraying me and humiliating me even as I celebrated her, would not have flickered in my imagination. I could not have imagined then that a “bad hair day” now would entail more worry that my hair looks “middle-aged” rather than simply out of control.

Last week a butterscotch colored kitten died in my arms, even as I pleaded with her not to die, holding her in one arm and driving to the vet with the other. Despite the refrain of apologies uttered on behalf of my dog who, had only been attending to her very nature when the kitten was hurt, that cat went ahead and died. I was forced to recognize between my sobs that in my need for her to live I was desperate for a good outcome. In that moment this small being was made responsible for my hope. A good outcome in this case would be anything, anything at all that looked like living. This small being cradled in my left arm wrapped in a Sponge Bob beach towel, continuing to breathe would mean redemption, forgiveness, do-over’s for mistakes made, a few more years to accomplish the unaccomplished, belief made out of nothing. Her breath and life would somehow look like the life at 53 that I never imagined in the first place. How could such a one even have a chance with so much weight placed on her struggle?

When she died I would not believe it, and rushed her into the vet in a panic anyway. When the young woman I passed the kitten off to came back a few minutes later, her look was so kind, so tender in the harsh reality she came to communicate that words were not necessary and right there in the waiting room, in front of a number of complete strangers I broke down and sobbed out loud. Those people were all there with animals so they were kind and supportive as one might expect, murmuring their own apologies in the background, never daring to enter into my private grief space, never imagining how much more was there than the death of the kitten.

At 37,000 feet, thoughts fling themselves at me at the same speed of the passing clouds.

I think I never would have known how pure the pleasure and delight of one red poppy blooming on the morning of my recent birthday could be. Nor could I have understood the reward of a conversation with someone long admired now a friend becoming. In the taxi before dawn this morning, the driver was playing Sanskrit mantras. When we got to the airport I asked him about the mantras, at which point he looked at me and then cast his eyes down and said simply, “Morning Prayers”. “Yes” I said, “Thank you for the morning prayers”. The driver looked at me again, smiled and turned to go back to work.

Then I recalled how at the beginning of this trip I saw the sunrise in my rearview mirror which is somewhat counterintuitive, but is in and of itself a morning prayer, and I know that when I leave this place which is not working for me, that still I will cry and wear a t-shirt with its name on it. This is life in action, the life at 53 I never could have imagined.