Clouds look different from above then they do from below. When you get into an airplane and look out the window, the clouds look like cotton. Or perhaps cotton candy. Fluffy and wispy not solid. Sometimes from the ground, looking up the clouds look more solid. As if you could walk on them and in walking on them go where you were headed without a plane. But up in the air, looking down at the clouds you realize how fluid they are. Flying through cloud cover you realize it is more of a pool of water in the sky. Water droplets streaking your window as you fly through the cloud. Around you, for a moment the world is you, the seat, the window and the streaks of water.
Then you are above the clouds and free. But you aren’t free. You are bound to a chair waiting for 10-minute ding. The flight attendant announcing, “you may now use your electronic device.” At that point, you look out the window and capture pictures. You capture that view of the world from above. In part perhaps to share pictures of clouds. I don’t know what I thought about why I took pictures of clouds. I know that I often took pictures of the clouds from above. I guess it was part of the journey, part of the process, as I headed off on another work trip. The goal for me was to get there and grabbing my bag, jumping into a train or grabbing a rental car to head off to my goal.
Sometimes looking down, I would wonder what lay below — seeing towns and cities so small below. I would wonder, sometimes early in the morning as I flew overhead. Was it breakfast time? Some father or mother, scrambling eggs and adding bacon to the pan. Or Sausage links sizzling in the pan sleepy children coming down from their rooms. Perhaps a gentle voice asking; Pancakes anyone? A friendly voice says. I would wonder that as I flew 20,000 feet, 30,000 feet over the world. Was today a waffle day, a pancake day or a waking up late and having to rush out of the house eating on the go. I knew where I was going. I knew my destination. I still wonder what happened in the world below.