This is the same sentiment I felt observing M staring out of the porthole on our flight from Paris to Athens. The skyscape outside is a wondrous sight to behold. But I wonder, what's on her mind...
As a boy, I too enjoyed moments like this. Especially when at the window seat in my dad's Datsun 120Y as he drove us around town or to/from Batang Melaka. I would daydream about being the star performing on stage to the music that is playing on the car's 8-track. To you Millennials, that is the music format that succeeded vinyl, especially in its portability and preceded the even more versatile cassette tape. Pretty unimaginable to those growing up in the digital music era, I suppose.
The past month, I've been stocking up on vinyl records. My collection now is well over 200 records (including some of my dad's which I grew up listening to) and a good number are classics voted to be amongst the TOP 500 albums of all time, by Rolling Stone magazine, no less. My kids, like me, function well to music, whether in the background or in the foreground. Music is a good friend to me. Like wine and whisky, it calms when I'm agitated. It soothes when I'm sad. It provides company when I'm lonely. It heightens my joy when I'm happy.
Right now though, I have no music on hand. And I am a bit vexed that our luggage are probably not on board on account of poor transfer procedures at Paris' Charles de Gaulle airport. Architecturally splendid, but process-wise, a bit stupid. Lost baggage is a pet peeve of mine, way back from my airline days when I know how chaotic the bag handling area is.
I am seated at the aisle seat, my preferred location for ease of access. That means no window gazing and poignant reflection moment. As the pilot prepares to land the aircraft, I am hoping that our bags made it and if not, comes the time of waiting...
No comments:
Post a Comment