My brother, who travels all over the world, has told me that he often finds himself crying watching movies on airplanes. Movies that wouldn’t otherwise inspire him to cry if he saw the same movies in a theater. I’m thinking about this now as I sit suspended in air trying not to think about being suspended in the air.
I’m feeling kinda emotional too right now. I mean, I just found myself weeping during the airplane movie, Country Strong, which really does not deserve my tears. So I’m thinking about this interesting phenomenon about crying on airplanes. I wonder why….
Is it because when you stare out the window and see the sun setting over big puffy clouds with miniscule lights below each representing thousands of huge lives being lived you are filled with those brain-bending thoughts of wonder and awe about the vastness of this world and your existence? Or is it because there’s something weirdly emotional that happens to you when that buzzing airplane noise gets stuck in your psyche? Or is it because you’re simply tired from a week of work in New York City away from your home and you’re simply dying to get home and hug those kids of yours up and any thought of their glowing faces makes you weep with yearning? Or is it because you simply can not believe you have almost three hours left of your flight when you swear you’ve already been on the plane for like 6 hours and isn’t this only a 5 ½ hour flight?
It’s all that and more for me right now.
I made the mistake of scrolling through my iPhone photos after Country Strong ended because I keep getting a warning that I don’t have enough space to take more photos. So I thought I would delete some or all of those millions of photos that my kids end up taking all over the house – most of which are extreme close-ups of the floor.
And for some weird reason, I have photos reaching back to almost three years ago when I first got an iPhone and it did not help my Country Strong tears to see each of my babies looking way more babyish than they are now.
I just spent a week away from them. Their huge lives being lived and I didn’t witness any of it. And I kinda feel like shit about it. This is life I guess. The balancing act of raising a family and being with your family. But tonight the balance is way off. Six days away and it’s too much. Simply too much.
I’m getting older and it’s weird. I meet young eager faces ready for a career in television and I thought for a long time that I would most always be younger than most. And now I’m older than most and it’s weird. And add on top of my lifey thoughts the fact that I’m reading “A Visit from the Goon Squad” which is one depressing tale of time and getting older after another and wow –
I want to be graceful about getting older. Just like my Grandma who never considered Botox and lived until 91 years of age with the smoothest, most beautiful wrinkles on her face. Her eyes glowed with memories of living. I want to be like her. I want to resist the temptation to hide my age. To hide the wrinkles that are only there because I’ve laughed and cried and have made overly dramatic expressions that define part of who I am.
Can I do it?
I hope so. I’m feeling all Country Strong right now. We’ll see what happens when I land and I continue my daily existence where mirrors taunt me.
I’m tired and the airplane buzz seems really loud right now and the final glow of the sun is escaping my view ready to shine its light on someone else in the world.
I’m almost home…..