Grey skies, looking like rain, looking like home, where my
heart is. Looking out of the plane and
looking down at familiar landscapes, I am also leaving a part of my heart
behind. Tears fall silently.
Within minutes the thick white clouds with peep holes into
the geography below are gone and the brown parched hills spread out as far as
you can see. Fields of crops and
vineyards dot the landscape and small ponds and lakes fill the valley floor
below. Lake Berryessa where my parents
spent many hours fishing lies to the east, and far beyond the land is carved
into assorted shapes to fill the space available with sugar beets, rice, and
orchards. Fanning out on either side of
I-5 are little farm town spreading out from urban growth.
The perspective changes far above the earth below when
cities look like tiny blips on a vast expanse of land where few people will
ever touch the soil. The Sacramento
River winds its way through the valley floor giving life to California. Mt. Lassen is almost striped of snow with
only deep crevices still filled with ice and snow.
I lean farther towards the window to try and catnap and away
from the seatmate who had one too many drinks before boarding and now two more
glasses of wine. He’s rude to the family
behind us and the best thing for me to do is turn away and hug the window.
I had a one and a half hour layover in Portland. I wander up to the main terminal and was
surprised to see how big it is. Alaska
Airlines has a small wing with limited services and this is only my third time
flying into Portland. I walked one end
to the other before buying a cold drink and sitting down to listen to Ronda, http://www.musicbyronda.com who writes
her own original compositions and was playing on a baby grand piano. Listening to the soft piano music was such a
pleasant way to relax before the final leg of the long flight home.
Ok, so maybe I want a
baby grand piano now. A player piano
since I don’t know how to play a piano.
There was a baby grand in our home the first time we viewed it. It might require a small loan at this point
in our remodel, rearranging the furniture, a prayer…pray that Larry wouldn’t
finally say “No! No more, darlin.” I
don’t think he will let me fly into Portland to sit and listen to music for the
afternoon either. Listening to the piano
playing reminded me of the first time I listened to a CD of Gary Lamb or
hearing Michaels friend Dawn Angelosante play.
What a perfectly beautiful way to end the day…almost…I’m not home yet.
I left Oakland at
5:00 PM and my flight arrives in Bellingham at 10:00 PM. Tall planters of bamboo and greenery
surrounded a sitting area with a view outside from floor to ceiling windows. Starbucks, Powell Books, Made in Oregon, and
Good Dog, Bad Dog restaurant, anything a traveler might want or need on a
layover. Several people were carrying
boxes of world famous VooDoo Donuts that
were not sold in the airport, so I guess the airport does not have everything a
traveler might need.
Portland was seventy-nine degrees when we landed and sunny
but the forecast for home is fifty something degrees and rain. I am already missing the California sunshine
and warmth.
Larry was waiting for me, took my luggage, and had a cold
drink for me. He forgot the umbrella. Home sweet home.
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