in-flight entertainment

I generally prefer aisle seats. I can stretch out, access the overhead bins, walk around, be the first to jump up and go nowhere when the seatbelt light is turned off.

I ended up in a window seat on my way back to California and found myself mesmerized by the clouds. In some spots, the clouds were foam floating on a clear stream; I could see the contours of the land beneath. In other spots, the clouds were frothy waves on a stormy sea. In yet other spots, the clouds took on the shapes of wildlife and city skylines. In my mind, I knew that if I reached out and touched one, my fingers would not sense the fluffy, cottony texture and substance I'd always imagined in childhood; a cloud is little more than water vapor. But it looked so... real. How is possible that something could so dramatically defy its own appearance?

I felt deceived by my own eyes. Surely God gave us different senses, heart and head, mind and body and spirit, because sometimes parts of the bundle mislead us. The clouds may deceive the eye, but not the touch. What's visible is not always real or tangible; what's invisible and intangible is not always imagined. And once in a while, what is real is better than what we can touch or imagine.

These were some of the thoughts that coursed through me as the plane chased the setting sun. For a few hours, I could see its rays just beyond the wing as we sped westward; it seemed that we might catch up. But that, too, was an illusion. Nearly five hours later, we landed under the night sky.