Above the sky..

There's a serene trepidation about travelling. One that evokes restlessness, anticipation, curiosity. I can be travelling anywhere, on a bus, train, plane, even down the same streets that I've driven down for years, and yet each time is tainted with its own glorious feats.

The joy of the unknown, the rash of the unexpected. The thought of bumping into something which wasn't before. The routes may all be the same, but the journey is always different.

But there is something special about traveling in the air. The smell of airports-people scurrying, luggage, families saying goodbye, saying hello, hugs. It's a place of joy-exploration-anticipation. A place of firsts, seconds, sevenths. No matter how many flights you travel on, each one comes with its own charm.

Something about the strangers surrounding you; Already you have something in common, leaving destination A, travelling to destination B. Each one carries a tale, a story, something sad, borrowed, something joyful, friendly.

They are called travel tales for a reason.

I remember being seven, when every so many months we'd be on a flight to a new place. We were always excited, fighting over who got the window seat to be able to look outside, the butterflies which came during take-off - still one I equate with the fondest of childhood memories-all brought us to a happy place, a place where the unknown was unexpected and enjoyed at the same time. Always a new place, even the familiar became new. The only time we could comprehend being home, was when we were flying.

So as I prep to travel, yet again and embark on a season of discovery, I think and I finally decided the home that makes me happiest, really is in a cloud above the sky..