I have been on twelve flights in the last month.
It's more flying that I've ever done in my life - and two-thirds of it for work - but I've enjoyed the chance to expand a bit, to feel that I'm slightly more of the person I would like to become.
I love, more than anything, the moment just as the rear wheels leave the ground and the plane becomes airborne, and the sudden swift compression that immediately follows. I love watching the wings flex and getting vague diagrams in my head about the way the air flows around them, and I welcome the faintly buzzing sleep that comes over me like a wave when the Dramamine hits.
There is something still magical about our flight so far above the surface of the earth, and it's nice to be reminded, too, that such magic is grounded solidly in principles we can thoroughly understand.