Our flight takes off from Heathrow and heads west into the setting sun. The time of day and the speed of our plane make our journey a long, continuing trip into the sunset.
We fly over England, then Ireland, then Greenland and the Atlantic. Eventually we find North America, flying over Canada and the western United States. Hudson’s Bay is only an hour or so away from the Rocky Mountains.
From midnight in London to the next midnight in California, our travel creates a 32 hour day. We fly from a city where it is raining as we leave to a city living through a history making drought.
If I could live anywhere in the world, I would live in London. We are flying from a city where I would love to live, but never have, toward where we live now. I was not born where we live, but it is home.
Growing up far from both of these cities, I could only dream and read about them. Now, following the sun, the future stretches before us.
Many of us spend most of our lives searching for home. Some of us find it in a place or a person, a time or a particular set of responsibilities. Some of us never find our way home.
Our airplane races the speed of the earth’s rotation, heading west into the setting sun. We fall behind, watching the sun sink into the Pacific Ocean. Below us, the lights of Southern California are spread out like stars shining in the night.
We land, collect our things, and are welcomed back. We have returned home.
Where would you like to go next?
If you could live anywhere on earth, where would it be?
How do you know when you have arrived at home?
[Image by andrewfhart]
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