Weekly Photo Challenge: Up

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I can remember looking up at planes as a kid and wondering,
“What is up there?
Who is up there?
And where are they going?
Are they going home or just now leaving?”
I remembered them leaving trails of clouds instead of dust.
I must have made up plenty of stories,
Of families attending family reunions,
And the unions of husbands and wives of honeymoons,
And the gloomy sadness of the madness in the minds of funeral attendees.
It’s deceiving how little planes look when they fly 8,000 feet above me.
When I’m up in the air I wonder,
“Who’s down there?
Are they looking up at me and wondering who I could be?
Where do they think I’m going?
Do they catch themselves knowing that I’m coming home?
Or do they know I haven’t yet found it?”

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