There is something about looking out of the little window of an airplane that puts me in a sentimental mood. Where I usually enjoy writing, sleeping, or reading while I travel, when I get the chance to sit in the window seat of an airplane, nothing seems more important that catching the view right next to me. When I get the chance to choose my seat, I choose the window seat like an eager child who has never been on a plane before. Even after multiple trips, sitting in the uncomfortable chair and watching the clouds, the city lights, or the white-topped mountains is still one of my favorite little experiences in life.
Hopping on the plane after my first time back in Missouri after five months left me reflecting on the break, my tiny town, and life in the midwest as a whole. I boarded the plane in a frigid 25 degrees and I watched outside of the window as the plane took off above the brown and white-spotted terrain. The ground seemed flat and dull, without many tall buildings or traffic. It seemed to serve as a good representation of the feelings I had while visiting home - life seemed to move just a little slower. For the most part, the buildings, roads, and people all seem the exact same as when I left. Like the cold air made the social dynamic and businesses freeze just as the river and lakes. It seemed to sharply contrast the world that I’d become used to - full of young people, sunshine, city life, constant stimulation and things to do. Because of this, being at home left me bored, tired, and slightly lazy on a surface level. But my little midwestern town also provided me with a calmness and relaxation that I feel is impossible to achieve in a big city. It’s freezing so you stay inside, and with no feelings like you should be doing something else. Even as the adventurous, busy person I like to think I am, during break I could hang out and be lazy with my family, read a book, or watch movies all day and didn’t feel shame because there really isn’t a billion other things going on. It’s a lifestyle that I don’t think I want constantly, but something that I’ve come to appreciate - slowness, laziness, relaxation.
When the most eventful part of your day is going to eat at the local diner or riding around with on gravel roads with your sister you appreciate those little moments in new ways. I indulged myself by spending hours simply talking with my best friend, catching up on everything that happened over break. I laid with my mom in bed, questioning how my life went from so crazy and alive to so restful and peaceful - and how both result in the same amount of bliss.
It’s not to say that I can’t do those exact same things in college, but there’s also much more pressure to take advantage of all the wonderful opportunities right outside my door. Although I want a life outside of my comfort zone, it’s nice to get a break where you the “fear of missing out” and the pressure to be constantly “grinding”.
We ascended, fluffy clouds taking over the brown ground. I began dozing off, my mind in a state of peace that seems hard to achieve on the ground. At 40,000 feet up, with no internet connection, text messages, or people I know, the world seems just a little more calm to me. Everyone keeps to themselves and there’s an I feel like there is an unsaid rule that plane rides are pretty much personal time. that As we flew over mountains and rocky terrain, topped with white snow and hugged by foggy layers of clouds, sleep couldn’t even tempt me to keep my eyes off the beautiful world below. Even though these are sights I’ve seen over and over again, I was in awe. I remember thinking that despite all of the things society does to produce beauty - fit bodies, fashion, cool buildings, makeup - nothing could compare to the natural world below me. Nothing compares to the effortless, perfect beauty of the natural world. We try so hard make ourselves and our surroundings so aesthetically pleasant, when the existing world around us already is multiples more beautiful than anything we can create. My mind thudded with these little revelations and I fell into a light sleep.
I was awoken by the flight attendant telling us that we were descending. My eyes again focused on the window to my right, with a silly excitement to see the scenery of my “home” of Arizona come into view. The downy clouds slowly diminished and there was no longer sights of white snow outside of the window. As we got closer and closer to the Phoenix area, the world seemed to come alive. Tiny houses and buildings filled the ground and the roads aligned like a tight graph. The difference of this terrain compared to the terrain that I departed from seemed substantial. Gone were vast spans of land. Little cars covered the roads and little blue pools were visible in neighborhoods. The hustle and bustle of The Valley was in full effect and my mindset seemed to shift from relaxation to the reassuring thought that I was home to my crazy, exciting big world.
I was home to a world of people constantly thinking forward and trying to change the world. To young people, to events, to amazing weather and hikes. I was at my home where I feel I’m constantly being inspired to be adventurous, test my boundaries, and grow in every way. To college where there more liveness at 2 a.m. then there is at any time at all in my little town. To tall buildings, mountains, expectations, and coffees. To ever-changing trends, demographics, businesses, and opinions. I took a deep breath, feeling more alive just looking at it from the window.
The plane ride made me realize how strikingly contrasting my two “homes” are. It was like when I was up in the sky I could see my two worlds from a bird's eye view, dissociated from both. But as crazy different as they are, they both have been substantial in shaping me into the person I am. They both have taught me completely different, valuable lessons. I feel like they are both vital to my well being and to the the broad perspective of the world I have.
Descending down, I sit and smile because that as crazy different as these two places are, I know both will always be home.
