CHILDLIKE CURIOSITY THAT LASTS

My daughter was only five years old when she joined me on one of my scheduled trips.
The 2 1/2 hour flight to the island of Bermuda, a jeweled oasis in the unforgiving waters of the Atlantic Ocean, was flawless -  sun gleaming and smooth air. The passengers sat in armchair comfort, munching and snoozing, having no thoughts of the goings-on beyond the cabin. Britt however, her little button nose pressed up against the porthole window was captivated by her fluffy companions, puffs of clouds floating in harmony around the Boeing 757 like rows of apple trees flush with spring blossoms. Their fanciful forms fascinated her.

Fifteen years later, and still fascinated with skyscapes, Britt took this photo while returning
home from her college graduation trip to the Far East with friends. She accompanied the photo with this wonderful quote from Alain de Botton's book The Art of Travel.

"The planes engines show none of the effort required to take us to this place. They hang there in the inconceivable cold, patiently and invisibly powering the craft, their sole request, painted on their inner flanks in red letters, being that we do not walk on them and that we feed them "oil only: D50TFI-S4", a message for a forthcoming set of men in overalls, 4000 miles away and still asleep.

There is not much talk about the clouds that are visible up here. No one seems to think it remarkable that somewhere above an ocean we are flying past a vast white candy-floss island that would have made a perfect seat for an angel or even God himself in a painting
by Piero della Francesca. In the cabin, no one stands up to announce with requisite emphasis that if we look out the window, we will see that we are flying over a cloud, a matter
that would have detained Leonardo and Poussin, Claude and Constable.

When scrutinised, our airborne companions outside the window do not look as we might expect them to. In paintings and from the ground, they appear to be horizontal ovoids, but up here they resemble giant obelisks made of piles of unsteady shaving foam.
Their kinship with steam becomes clearer: they seem more volatile, perhaps the product of something that has just exploded and is still mutating. It remains perplexing that it should be impossible to sit on one."

           This photo and quote sits beside my computer where I work most days.

Not only do I love my gift and the thought that my daughter was thinking of me while crossing the globe at 30,000 feet with her friends but it also inspires me each time I

look at it to keep finding the childlike curiosity in myself - even at my age!