Submitted by James Weaver, a professor at Denison University
A redeye surprises me on the northwestern horizon. At first a bright white light in the pre-dawn darkness, the plane banks to the east, cruising north of the city as it makes its final approach at the John Glenn Columbus International Airport.
This is a morning ritual. Coffee and camp chairs. Our front steps in the still morning. The occasional skunk slinking its way in the shadows. And the mostly silent traffic in the sky.
Our tiny plot in north Columbus sits at an intersection of sorts between the local and the global. We are, indeed, flyover country. Cargo passes by at 35,000 feet: FedEx from Memphis to Buffalo, DHL from Cincinnati to Bahrain. The morning rush of departures from the airport arcs overhead. A Southwest flight to BWI, another to DEN. American to PHL. Delta to DTW, LGA, BOS.
Earthbound in body, here on the concrete porch, I’m nevertheless transported; anchored in the present, I watch a world of possibility unfold overhead. Travel is, after all, not merely a physical but also an imaginative act.
These constellations are moving, mapping and re-mapping my geographies. I take my last sip of coffee and head inside for more.
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