I write this sitting on the floor of an airport, halfway through my journey home. Usually I’m a little indifferent towards going home for Thanksgiving, but this year, I’m genuinely excited. Maybe it’s the wear of a particularly exhausting semester, maybe it’s the realization of how few times I have left to go home, I’m not sure. But I’ll be there in about four more hours!

Also, I’ve been on plenty of planes in the last few years, and I never cease to be dazzled by flying — the ludicrousness of it (cramming a crowd of bodies into a giant metal capsule and somehow sending it hurtling through the sky at several hundred miles per hour) and the awe of seeing the word passing by so far below. Life is happening in miniature while I’m up in the sky for those few hours, and it makes me realize how big the world is and how small the ins and outs of my life are. And seeing clouds from above and between rather than below — that amazes me every time.

On that note, they’re calling for my flight to begin boarding.

I’m coming home!


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