Musings on a homecoming

Tonight at 20,000 feet above ground the world looks a tad different to say the least. As we fly above the tapestry of clouds I peak through gaping holes where the seams have run loose like a child peaking from behind a curtain and the sight is spectacular. The city I call home sprawls before me as a sea of lights, white and yellow. Some jagged lines of yellow curve through and join others like tributaries of a river. The white lights set to the background of this dark night makes me reminiscent of starry nights drowned in city lights. We cruise above places familiar to me, above roads I have often taken. And down below, my loved ones carry on with their day momentarily interrupted by the rumble of a Boeing 777 gradually descending onto the airstrip. It's funny how every time I return home I expect it to feel different, to feel new again like I have never been here before. But it doesn't feel different, I just seem to pick up from where I left off.