“The song “Window Seat” is about liberating yourself from layers and layers of skin or demons that are a hindrance to your growth or freedom, or evolution.” –Erykah Badu I always ask for a window seat. If it’s not available, cool, I’ll manage. But when I get one, I ain’t giving it up. A man once asked if I wouldn’t mind swapping my window seat For an aisle seat so he and his wife could sit together. I politely declined his uneven request. So another passenger offered his window seat. “There’s nothing to see anyway,” he made a point of saying. Well, ‘nothing’ to you means ‘something’ to me. And vice versa, I’m sure. See, I take great pleasure in sitting in the window seat. Looking out at the horizon beyond and the land below. My imagination leaping from cloud to cloud, Reflecting on where I just came from, Wondering what exactly awaits me where I’m going. A 30,000 foot high view of Golden yellow sunrises and fiery red sunsets. The bluest sky and cotton candy clouds. As close to the stars as I’ll ever get, Winking at the man on the moon. Purple lightening bolts dancing in the distance. And as the plane the ascends, I look out the window, take a deep breath. Take-offs and landings are the sketchiest parts about flying. So I give thanks for being where I am and where I want to go in life. I ask myself, If the plane were to go down, Would I be able to say that I lived a full life? That I lived my life as I pleased? Would I have any regrets? And then I ask myself What are the things that I want to do but haven’t done yet? What’s stopping me? Easy answer to that question: ME. By this point, the plane’s approaching it’s cruising altitude And I’m getting drowsy. Too much thinking, perhaps? I put my seat all the way back, cocoon myself in my blanket, And hope I don’t drool too much.